#showing pride in your circle through the 'uniform'

[clavicuss-vile]

have i mentioned that i headcanon some circles (kinloch hold specifically) encourage very tightly tied styles for longer hair (usually plaited or braided) without much styling, on the surface for safety reasons (fire spells gone awry) but predominantly for subtly crushing individuality and exerting whatever control over the mages they can. The pressure usually lessens after an apprentice passes their harrowing and it's not mandatory, but very much encouraged. All apprentice robes look the same. All apprentices should have short or tied back hair. All apprentices should have no tattoos.

(Tattooing eachother is very much seen as an act of defiance, ESPECIALLY facial tattoos, and modification to the robes results in confiscation and new robes being given, but hair is far more relaxed. It would still earn quite a few comments especially from senior mages, but apprentices wouldn't be reprimanded for wearing their hair down or styled)

[brookghaib-blog]

Love in the Defense Force

pairing: Hoshina Soshiro x Ashiru! reader

summary: where Mina Ashiru's sister is head over heels with the Vice-Captain

--

Y/N stood at the edge of the training field, the early morning sun casting long shadows on the ground. The crisp air was filled with the sounds of recruits preparing for their first session under her command. As the platoon leader of the Third Division, Y/N took immense pride in her role. Her bubbly personality and strength as an officer had earned her the respect and admiration of her peers and subordinates alike.

She adjusted her uniform, her mind briefly wandering to her sister, Ashiru Mina, the renowned captain of the Defense Force's First Division. Mina was a legend, and Y/N couldn't be prouder to be her sister. She often found herself boasting about Mina's accomplishments to anyone who would listen. But today, the focus was on her own platoon and the new recruits she was about to train.

The recruits lined up, their eyes wide with anticipation and a hint of nervousness. Y/N's reputation had preceded her, and they were eager to see if the stories of her beauty and strength were true. She stepped forward, her presence commanding yet warm.

"Good morning, everyone!" Y/N greeted, her voice carrying across the field. "Welcome to your first day of training with the Third Division. I'm Ashiru Y/N, your platoon leader. I expect dedication, hard work, and respect. In return, I'll give you the best training you can get."

The recruits nodded, some whispering among themselves about her striking appearance and the aura of strength she exuded. Y/N noticed their admiration but maintained her professional demeanor.

"Let's start with some warm-ups," she instructed. "Follow my lead."

As they began their exercises, it became evident why Y/N was held in such high regard. Her movements were precise and powerful, her commands clear and motivating. The recruits tried their best to keep up, impressed by her physical prowess and the ease with which she led them.

After the warm-ups, Y/N gathered the recruits in a circle. "Alright, we'll move on to combat drills. Remember, technique and control are key. Strength alone won't get you far."

The recruits nodded again, eager to learn from her. They paired off, practicing the moves Y/N demonstrated. She moved among them, offering guidance and corrections, her encouragement lifting their spirits.

As the morning progressed, Y/N's keen eye caught every mistake and improvement. She paused occasionally to show a recruit how to refine their technique, her patience and expertise shining through. The recruits admired not only her beauty but also her dedication and skill.

During a brief break, Y/N's attention was drawn to the arrival of two familiar figures—Ashiru Mina and Hoshina Soshiro. Her sister, with her usual composed demeanor, nodded in approval as she observed the training. Hoshina, the Vice-Captain of the Third Division, stood beside Mina, his presence radiating authority.

Y/N's heart skipped a beat, and she felt a blush creeping up her cheeks. She respected Mina and Hoshina deeply, always striving to meet their expectations. But when it came to Hoshina, her feelings went beyond mere respect.

"Captain Ashiru, Vice-Captain Hoshina," Y/N greeted, snapping to attention. "It's an honor to have you here."

Mina nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. "You're doing well, Y/N. Keep it up."

Hoshina stepped forward, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Impressive work, Y/N. Your recruits are lucky to have such a dedicated leader."

Y/N's blush deepened, and she stammered slightly. "T-thank you, Vice-Captain. I… I just want to do my best."

Hoshina chuckled, his gaze lingering on her. "And you certainly do. Keep up the good work."

The recruits, observing from a distance, exchanged curious glances.

Y/N quickly composed herself, turning back to her recruits. "Alright, break's over! Let's get back to training."

The recruits resumed their drills, but their attention occasionally flickered to Y/N and Hoshina. Mina, perceptive as always, noticed the recruits' interest and the way Hoshina's attention seemed to fluster her sister.

As the training session continued, Y/N found herself working even harder, driven by the desire to impress both her sister and Hoshina. Her commands were sharp, her demonstrations flawless. The recruits struggled to keep up, their admiration for her growing with each passing minute.

Finally, the session came to an end. The recruits were exhausted but exhilarated, their respect for Y/N solidified by her performance. Y/N gathered them one last time, offering words of encouragement and advice.

"Remember, training is only part of the battle," she said. "Your attitude and perseverance will determine your success. I'm proud of the effort you've shown today. Keep it up, and you'll do great things."

The recruits nodded, their spirits high despite their fatigue. They dispersed, leaving Y/N alone with Mina and Hoshina.

"You did well, Y/N," Mina said, her voice filled with sisterly pride. "I'm proud of you."

Y/N beamed, her heart swelling with happiness. "Thank you, Mina. That means a lot coming from you."

Hoshina stepped forward, his smile warm. "You have a natural talent for leadership, Y/N. Your recruits are lucky to have you."

Y/N's blush returned, and she struggled to maintain her composure. "Th-thank you, Vice-Captain. I just try to follow the example set by you and Mina."

Hoshina's gaze softened, and he reached out, gently touching the top of her head. "You're doing more than just following, Y/N. You're setting an example of your own."

Y/N's heart raced, and she could barely meet his eyes. "I… I'll keep working hard. Thank you, Vice-Captain."

--

The vehicle hummed steadily as it sped towards the site of the kaiju attack. Inside, the atmosphere was tense yet charged with anticipation. Ashiru Y/N stood at the front, her presence a beacon of energy and optimism for the new recruits. This was their first mission, and she intended to ensure they faced it with courage and determination.

"Alright, everyone!" Y/N called out, her voice bright and encouraging over the roar of the engine. "We've trained hard for this moment. Remember everything we've practiced. Stick together, watch each other's backs, and we’ll come out of this stronger. You’ve got this!"

The recruits responded with nods and murmurs of agreement, their faces a mixture of anxiety and resolve. They admired Y/N not only for her strength and skill but for her unwavering positivity, which had become a source of inspiration for them.

Hoshina Soshiro, seated near the back, watched Y/N with a fond smile. He appreciated her leadership style, her ability to uplift and motivate her team. As she finished her pep talk, he leaned forward slightly, catching her eye.

"You're so cute when you get into the leading role," he said, his voice low and teasing.

Her cheeks turned a deep shade of red, and she felt the warmth spreading to the tips of her ears. She stammered, trying to form a coherent response, but all that came out was a flustered, "Th-thank you, Vice-Captain."

The recruits exchanged amused glances, some chuckling softly at their leader's obvious crush on Hoshina. Y/N's embarrassment only deepened, but she quickly pulled herself together, determined to maintain her composure.

"Alright, everyone, focus!" she said, a touch more firmly. "We're almost there. Stay sharp and remember your training."

The vehicle soon screeched to a halt, and the doors burst open. The team quickly disembarked, the sounds of chaos and destruction filling the air. The cityscape before them was marred by the presence of kaiju, the monstrous creatures wreaking havoc. Smaller kaiju swarmed the streets, their shrieks echoing ominously, while a massive one loomed in the distance, engaging in a fierce battle with Mina Ashiru.

Y/N took a deep breath, drawing strength from the sight of her sister. Mina was a force of nature, her every move precise and powerful. Watching her in action filled Y/N with pride and a renewed sense of purpose.

"Form up!" Y/N commanded, her voice cutting through the din. "Focus on the smaller kaiju. Keep them contained and away from the civilians. Mina will handle the big one."

The recruits sprang into action, following Y/N's lead. They moved as a unit, their training evident in their coordinated attacks. Y/N herself was a blur of motion, her weapon slicing through the smaller kaiju with practiced ease. Each swing was calculated, each movement fluid and efficient.

Hoshina, nearby, couldn't help but admire her skill. He fought alongside her, occasionally offering guidance and support. Despite the seriousness of the situation, he found himself appreciating the way Y/N's determination shone through, her bubbly personality giving way to a fierce and focused warrior.

"Keep it up, team!" Y/N shouted, dispatching another kaiju. "We’re doing great!"

The recruits, inspired by her example, fought harder. Their initial nervousness faded, replaced by a growing confidence. They had trained under Y/N's watchful eye, and now they were proving themselves in battle.

Hoshina watched as Y/N took down another kaiju with a powerful strike. He couldn't resist offering another compliment, his tone both serious and admiring. "You're amazing out here, Y/N. Truly."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat at his words, but she managed to keep her focus. "Thank you, Vice-Captain. Just following your example."

The battle raged on, but the tide was turning in their favor. Y/N's leadership and the recruits' determination were making a difference. They pushed the smaller kaiju back, slowly but surely gaining the upper hand.

In the distance, Mina continued her battle with the massive kaiju. Her attacks were relentless, her movements a blur of deadly precision. She was a sight to behold, and Y/N felt a surge of pride every time she glanced her way.

"Almost there!" Y/N encouraged her team. "Just a little more, and we’ve got this!"

The battle against the kaiju raged on. Despite the initial success in containing the smaller kaiju, the situation remained tense. Y/N continued to lead her team with determination, dispatching kaiju with precision and maintaining her recruits' morale.

Suddenly, a crackle came through the radio on Y/N's belt. She paused momentarily to listen, the words sending a chill down her spine.

"Vice-Captain Hoshina is engaging Kaiju Number 8. Repeat, Vice-Captain Hoshina is engaging Kaiju Number 8."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat, worry flooding her senses. Kaiju Number 8 was notorious, one of the most formidable foes the Defense Force had encountered. The thought of Hoshina facing it alone filled her with dread.

But she couldn't afford to lose focus. Her team needed her. Taking a deep breath, Y/N pushed her worries aside, channeling her anxiety into determination.

"Stay sharp, everyone," she called out to her team. "We've got a job to do. Focus on the task at hand."

The recruits nodded, their resolve mirroring her own. They continued to fight, gradually clearing the area of the remaining kaiju. Y/N fought with renewed intensity, her movements swift and decisive, her mind a whirlwind of concern for Hoshina.

As the last of the smaller kaiju fell, Y/N allowed herself a moment to breathe. She wiped the sweat from her brow, her thoughts immediately turning to Hoshina. The area was secure, and her team was safe. Now, she needed to find him.

"Team, maintain your positions and secure the perimeter," Y/N instructed.

Without waiting for a response, she took off to find hoshina. Her heart pounded in her chest as she navigated the rubble and debris, her mind racing with scenarios of what she might find.

Finally, she spotted him. Hoshina was sitting cross-legged on a piece of broken concrete, his gaze distant as he appeared to be lost in thought.

Y/N felt a wave of relief crash over her, her eyes filling with tears. She rushed to him, her worry manifesting in a comically exaggerated display of emotion. "Soshiro Are you okay? I heard you were fighting Kaiju Number 8 and I got so worried!"

She reached him, practically skidding to a halt, her tears flowing freely. Her dramatic reaction made her look almost cartoonish in her distress, her hands flailing slightly as she tried to compose herself.

Hoshina looked up at her, his serious expression breaking into a warm, amused smile. He chuckled softly, his eyes filled with affection. "Hey, Y/N. I'm alright. I didn't really do anything, he ran away."

Y/N sniffled, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. "You had me so scared! Don't you ever do that again!"

Hoshina laughed, reaching out to gently pat her shoulder. "I can't promise that, princess. It's part of the job."

She nodded, her worry slowly giving way to relief and a hint of embarrassment at her over-the-top reaction. "I'm just glad you're okay. I… I was really scared."

Hoshina's smile softened, and he squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. "I know. And I'm grateful for your worry. But remember, we've got that dinner planned soon. I wouldn't miss it for anything."

Y/N's face lit up, her tears finally stopping as she let out a small laugh. "Right! Our dinner. I almost forgot."

Hoshina stood up, stretching slightly. "Come on, let's get back to the others. We've still got a job to finish."

Y/N nodded, feeling a renewed sense of strength. She fell into step beside him, her heart lighter now that she knew he was safe.

--

The dining hall was alive with laughter and conversation. Haruichi Izumo had outdone himself organizing the celebratory dinner, bringing together the officers and new recruits of the Defense Force. The atmosphere was filled with camaraderie and joy, especially as they officially welcomed Kafka Hibino as an officer.

Y/N, seated next to Soshiro, was in high spirits. The drinks had been flowing freely, and she found herself getting a bit tipsy. Her usually bubbly personality was amplified, her laughter louder and her smiles wider.

"Cheers to Hibino Kafka!" Y/N exclaimed, raising her glass high. "To new beginnings and new heroes!"

The group echoed her toast, clinking their glasses together. Kafka blushed, looking both honored and slightly embarrassed by the attention. Everyone was enjoying the evening, their bonds growing stronger with each shared story and hearty laugh.

As the night wore on, Y/N’s flirtatious side began to emerge. She leaned closer to Hoshina, her cheeks flushed from the alcohol. "You know, Soshiro," she whispered loudly, her voice carrying over the din, "I love you. Like, really love you."

The new officers, seated nearby, exchanged surprised glances. They had seen Y/N’s exaggerated reactions around Hoshina before, but this was something else entirely.

Hoshina chuckled, his arm slipping around Y/N's shoulders. "I know, Y/N. I love you too."

Y/N grinned, wrapping both arms around him and resting her head on his shoulder. "You’re the best, you know that? The absolute best."

Okonogi, who had been watching the scene unfold with increasing amusement, decided to step in. She approached Hoshina, a playful smirk on her face. "Alright, Y/N, let’s not cause too much of a scene. We don’t want to make a bad impression on the new recruits."

Y/N clung to Hoshina, her grip tightening. "Nooo, I wanna stay with Soshiro!"

The new recruits stared, wide-eyed, at the unfolding drama. Hoshina gently patted Y/N's back, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Come on, Y/N. Let's get you home so you can rest."

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes sparkling mischievously. "Oh, so we're going home, huh? Are we going to have a long night, Soshiro?" Her tone was suggestive, causing several of the recruits to choke on their drinks.

Hoshina laughed, standing up and helping Y/N to her feet. "Excuse my girlfriend," he said, looking around the room with a grin. "She can never be near me after a couple of glasses."

The room fell silent for a moment as the new recruits processed his words.

"GIRLFRIEND?!"

[artfulacrostic]

had my second high definition viewing of atsv in the theater today and here are my favorite details that i missed due to being overwhelmed on my first viewing:

LONG AF POST:

-gwen is literally wearing a rainbow shaped trans pride pin on her jacket with her prom outfit. she's soooo so canon trans <3

-captain stacy HAS A TRANS FLAG PATCH ON HIS POLICE UNIFORM JACKET?????? when i'm telling u my eyes popped out of my head 😳 SHES SO CANON TRANS!!!

-poster outside miles's guidance counselor's office reads: "visions sciences: telling you your story".

-parallel of miles's and gwen's dad kicking things out of general exasperation towards the beginning and end of the movie respectively

-when miles as spidey is talking to his dad and giving him advice (for himself) there's a reference to miles possibly reading vonnegut? (maybe in class??) "if this isn't nice what is" is a collection of kurt vonnegut's commencement speeches. (literally subtitled "advice to the young". the writers were extremely clever for this reference. if not reading it in class, miles has been searching up life advice on his own)

-i barely caught this but i'm PRETTY sure that in miles' room near his door there's a MICHELLE OBAMA presidential race sticker??? was president obama in the earth-1610 dimension michelle obama?? iconic if so

-fedex on earth-1610 is REDEX

-gayatri seems like they took elements of both gwen (police dad) and mj (young model) for her background as i believe i caught her visible on a "zomato" ad billboard (which appears to be the earth-50101 version of ubereats)

-i spent all of hobie's scenes trying to pick up the details of his many pins; but the only one that i could really make out with the quick shot changes besides the union jack pin was the one right above it, which is a three-leaf clover. i wondered if maybe it had some kind of significance to maybe irish independence or smth but i couldn't find anything online that backed that up so not sure what it means. if u know pls drop it in the replies.

-hobie's boots are definitely NOT ladder laced. i KNOW there is concept art and poster art of him with ladder laces but in the actual movie they are 100% crossed. also unlike the poster art, both boots have blue laces, not one blue, one yellow/orange. i wanted to be all on board the ladder lace code train but i'm pretty sure they just made his laces blue so that they could contrast against the red boots and be spidey colors. they probably abandoned the ladder lace part of the visual when someone realized what blue ladder laces meant in lace code. "HAS hobie killed a cop," you ask? given his comic backstory i'd say the odds are HIGH. but i would bet they didn't want people to think that since he's gone through canon event asm-90 ("a police captain close to spider-man is killed by falling rubble during a battle with a nemesis") that there's any possibility THAT was the cop he killed and he's proud of it (since it's supposed to be all abt character development from the ✨trauma✨ of the event)

-during the whole "intervention" scene, while all the other spider-people are facing directly in towards miles and miguel from wherever they are standing in the circle, hobie is the only one whose back is turned. he watches most of the scene over his shoulder. also, during a couple shots facing miles before the entire society of spiders show up, hobie is separated in the shot from all the other main spiders (Peter B, Gwen, Jess, etc) BY MILES. he is visible over one shoulder and everybody else is visible over the other. these two details are great signals of hobie having already MORALLY turned his back on miguel's authoritarianism, as well as giving a nice inverted "devil/angel on the shoulders" nod.

-peter b asks miguel to take a picture of him and mayday since it's her first chase; miguel brushes him off but mayday understands and uses her webshooter to click the camera button on peter b's phone and take a selfie without him noticing 😂😂😂 shes everything to me

-when miguel is pinning miles to the train, after gwen and peter b have caught up, there is a very fast moment when miles calls for help ("PETER!!") and peter doesn't reply to him, but calls out to miguel to calm down (smth like that) instead 🥲 peter for the love of god step up your mentor game and look out for this kid i can't handle it anymore

-when gwen takes the watch hobie made her out of the box, the screen is briefly visible and reads "project botleg". bootleg -> bot -> "botleg"; I SEE YOU HOBIE. people think he's so cool (and he is!!) but he's also just as much of a dork as all the other spiders. what a goofball

-in miles-42's room, a speed bag/speed ball/maize ball is attached to his wall near the door. there are other substantial differences to their rooms, but i think this is clearly a reference to uncle aaron-42's large presence in miles-42's life, given the association from both movies of aaron with the punching bag and miles getting guidance from him/looking to him for support.

-in addition to all the miles-1610 vs miles-42 prowler vs spidey reflection imagery in the end credits, guess who else has several moments of flashing from spider-man colors (red and black at least) to prowler colors (purple and green)?? miguel, that's who. miguel and miles-42/uncle aaron-42 team-up in beyond the spiderverse? or just an extra parallel for the antagonists sharing goals/possibly methods?

OKAY ANYWAY if ppl want i can try and dig up images of some of these but i figured that would make this post long af so that's all for now folks!! go see across the spider verse again and marvel at how much more fine detail you find like me 🕸🕸🕸

[lilypadlys]

Burn For You

First in what's hopefully a series of Dewdrop/Reader oneshots under the title, Burn With Me. Very little overarching plot, just a bunch of fun little scenarios. I think he's neat alright? Will include fluff and smut (will be labeled on the post)

Summary: Dew finds his hands full of a crying sibling of sin and has to try his best to comfort them. They both discover there's more to their relationship than they originally thought…

Ship: Dewdrop/Reader

Word Count: 1,545

Rating: General Audiences, SFW

Tags: fluff and angst, love confessions, idiots in love

A/N: Reader is referred to as Y/N and no pronouns are specified. This one is fluff with a bit of angst. Starts with some fighting but ends with fluff and cuddles.

AO3 or below the cut.

Dew knows you’re standing out in the hall steeling yourself. He just waits, taking pride in the knowledge that he can be a pain to deal with. It was part of the game. When you finally rap on his bedroom door, he gives a bored, “What?” without turning away from the TV. When you let yourself in, he doesn’t so much as bat an eye.

“Hey Dew,” fatigue and annoyance are evident in your voice. Dew isn’t paying attention though. “Sister Imperator sent me to tell you that-”

“Do I look like I give a shit?” He snorts playfully and rolls his eyes.

You sigh and try again. “She told me to remind you that your new costume fitting is tomorrow.”

“Okay? So?”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. You’re not in the mood for this today. “So, please remember to show up. I had to reschedule the last one because you forgot.”

“Fine. Whatever." He says boredly. "I don’t see why this is necessary though. I mean, wasn’t the first time good enough?”

“Don’t give me that!” You snap, your flat, tired tone becoming a snarl. “If you hadn’t set the last uniform on fire, there would be no need for a new fitting.”

He turns his head at that. “Alright, geez. Keep your pants on.”

“One-thirty. In my office.” It’s not a question. You turn to leave but Dew is determined to bait you further.

“You doing alright, Y/N?” Dew throws out nonchalantly. “You look like hell. I’m not sure my appearance is the one you should be worried about.” He was looking for a friendly game of cheeky insults. You had thick skin and were one of the best at matching him quip for quip. You normally met his bait by rolling your eyes and throwing it right back at him. His jaw nearly hits the floor in shock when, instead of snapping back, tears well up in your eyes.

“Wha?” He gapes.

“Really?” You’re incredulous. “I can’t with you.” You turn and stomp out the door.

“Y/N, I didn’t mean-”

“Fuck you!” You slam the door behind you and storm off.

Dew is at a loss. He feels terrible. He should have realized to back off. You had lacked your normal playful snark and you seemed exhausted. If your tone wasn’t enough of a clue, the dark circles under your eyes gave it away. He had been told many times that his inability to think things through before acting would get him into trouble. He hadn’t listened.

Obviously.

“Well I’m already screwed.” He mutters. He yanks open his door and runs after you before anything like better judgment kicks in.

Dew catches up just in time to see you slip into your office and firmly shut the door. He hesitates outside, unsure. He wants to apologize, but how? With the ghouls, arguments could be explosive but were settled just as quickly. Offering physical reassurance like back rubs or cuddles paired with an apology was enough to smooth most things over. But would that work for you?

Dew knew that humans could be quite skilled at holding grudges and he didn’t want to risk making the situation any worse. Were you someone that preferred to scream it out or did you need space? He’d obviously hit a raw nerve. Was it too late to make it up?

For better or worse, his need to act takes over and he finds himself knocking on your office door. Immediately he curses, already regretting his impulsiveness.

Inside, you’re sitting at your desk, head in hands. You rub at your eyes, wiping away the tears. You’d already been having a bad day, why did Dew have to go and make it worse? You know he didn’t really mean it. He often said whatever was on his mind but not with the intention of hurting anyone. At least not you. He’d been looking to get a rise out of you to start an easy teasing match. Nothing more. Today though, it was the last straw that pushed your tears over the edge.

When you hear the knock, you stand and brush yourself off. You figured another sibling, clergy member, or even Sister Imperator needed something. It wouldn't do to look a mess in front of them. You open the door and are none too happy to see your current pain in the ass darkening your doorway. To his credit, Dew looks quite remorseful. Still, you have to fight the urge to slam the door in his face.

“What do you want?” You spit.

Dew can’t seem to get his tongue working. You almost do slam the door before he rushes forward and wraps his arms around you. Shock takes the place of your anger.

“Dew?”

“I’m sorry Y/N.” He whispers. The ghoul seemed to have gathered his courage. “I-it was meant to be a joke. You don’t look bad. I mean, you’re gorgeous and-! Uh…shit.”

You both balk. You at the unexpected compliment. Dew upon realizing that he indeed just called you gorgeous. Out loud. To your face.

“D-Dew?” You sputter. He just buries his blushing face in your chest. “Lord below, Dewdrop!”

He glances up, looking remarkably like a scolded puppy.

“It’s okay! You just caught me at a bad time. Uh…umm…”

“I’m sorry!” He says again as he steps back stiffly. “Eh, are you doing okay?” He shoves his hands in his pockets and looks at the floor.

You sigh, and some of the friendly sass you employ with him creeps into your voice. “You serious?” When he blanches you add. “Yeah, I’m fine. I mean. Ugh…no, not really.” Tears prick at your eyes all over again. You hurry to wipe them away, but Dew stops you.

“It’s okay. Let it out.” He soothes, remembering what Cumulus says to comfort him sometimes. He even manages to sound calm, although his expression betrays his panic. He gulps and does the one thing he knows to do and hugs you again.

This time you lean into the hug and allow yourself to cry. Dew just holds you as you sob. You feel him crank up his body heat and the warmth soothes you.

“Shh. It’s okay.” He purrs in your ear. He starts rubbing your back, the physical reassurance seeming to be helping.

Eventually he lets go, only to guide you to the love seat along the wall. You let him steer you over and you sit. As soon as you do, he perches beside you and resumes rubbing your back. You rest your head on his shoulder and he nuzzles the top of your head.

Your tears begin to peter out and your breathing slows and deepens. Once you can speak again, you hum, “Gorgeous huh?”

Dew squeaks. “I-uh-well-”

“You’re not bad looking yourself Firefly.” You sit up to peck him on the cheek. You roll your eyes as his gray cheeks turn lavender. “Also, you make a really good pillow.” You lay down and rest your head in Dew’s lap. He starts to play with your hair and massage your scalp. The feeling of his claws lightly scratching your head has you yawning.

“It’s okay. You can sleep.” He hums.

You know you have work to do, but you’re so tired. “Mmm.” You close your eyes.

Across the abbey, the rest of the ghouls are organizing a search party. The reason? No one has seen hide nor hair of Dew for at least thirty minutes, so of course he’s up to something. Probably arson. Aether starts to pace. After “the incident” it had become an unspoken rule that someone must always know where Dew is and what he’s up to, at all times. Neither Swiss nor Sunny, Dew’s usual partners in crime, have any clue where he is. Aether is getting worried.

Not wanting to invoke Sister Imperator's wrath on the basis of something expensive being destroyed, the ghouls split up to search the ministry. It’s Rain who finds Dew, or rather both of you. He regroups everyone to tell them. When none of them believe him, they all return to your office.

“Aww!” Sunny coos pointing at you and Dew. You’re fast asleep in his lap. He’s been resting his eyes, head leaned back against the wall.

“Told you.” Rain grins.

“So there you are.” Aether shakes his head and smiles.

“Somebody take a picture.” Mountain chuckles.

“Will you all shut it?” Dew hisses, gesturing at you. You start to stir and Dew glowers at his pack mates.

Aether rolls his eyes and walks over. He gently pats your shoulder before sliding his hands under your back to help you sit up. “C'mon. Let's get the two of you to bed.”

Dew doesn’t stop grumbling about the interruption until the two of you are firmly ensconced in the center of a ghoul pile on the common room floor.

“This has gotta be more comfortable than the wall.” You reason. Ensconced in pillows, blankets and the warmth of the purring ghouls around you, you're already drifting off again.

Dew relents and nods. “Yeah.”

You snuggle into his chest and he holds you in his arms tighter.

“Love you Dew.”

He kisses your forehead. “Love you too Y/N.”

[sparrow-mask22]

The Umbrella Academy Story of The Mothers (6/6) sparrow edition: Elinor

TW: childbirth, mentions of vaginal tearing, mentions of blood, abusive birth mom

October 1, 1989. Swansea, Wales. 25 seconds before noon.

Elinor Bagworth was a 17 year old cheerleader at the now defunct Daniel James Community High School. She had been practicing her routine with the squad all morning long, her heart full of excitement and anticipation for the upcoming game. As the clock ticked down to 25 seconds before noon, she found herself standing in the center of the football field, her teammates surrounding her in a circle. They were about to perform their signature cheer, one that would surely bring the crowd to its feet.

The cheering squad was made up of five girls, each with their own unique style and personality. There was Daphne, the captain and the most experienced cheerleader; Melanie, the choreographer and the one with the best technique; Elinor, the one with the most spirit and the best smile; Kylie, the shyest and most introverted one; and finally, Jessica, the newest member of the squad and the one who had the most energy and the best tumbling skills.

As the clock hit zero, the girls broke formation and began their routine, shouting and jumping in perfect unison. Their bodies moved fluidly, their voices echoing across the field. They went through their stunts and tumbling passes with precision and grace. Even Jessica, who had been nervous about her first real cheerleading performance, seemed to have found her rhythm.

The crowd, which had been growing more and more excited as the game approached, cheered them on, clapping and whistling as they watched the girls show off their skills. Elinor couldn't help but feel a surge of pride and happiness wash over her. She loved being part of the squad, loved the sense of community and belonging it gave her.

As they finished their final tumbling pass, the crowd erupted into thunderous applause. Elinor felt a weight lift off her shoulders, a sense of accomplishment that was almost indescribable. She smiled broadly as she took a bow, waving to the fans who had come to support them.

Daphne, the team captain, walked up to Elinor and gave her a high five. "Nice job out there, Ellie. You really brought your A-game today." She nodded towards the stands, where Elinor's parents were waving proudly. "Your mom and dad must be so proud of you."

Elinor beamed with happiness. "Thanks, Daphne. I couldn't have done it without you and the rest of the squad. You guys were awesome." She glanced over at Jessica, who was still catching her breath. "And Jess, you did great for your first time. I'm so glad you joined us."

The other girls nodded in agreement, clapping Jessica on the back as they made their way off the field. They stopped briefly to stretch and cool down before heading back to the locker room to change out of their uniforms. As they were walking, they couldn't help but overhear the crowd still cheering for them, their voices echoing across the field.

Elinor felt a pang of sadness as they neared the locker room. Secondary school was almost over, and she knew that things would never be the same again. She would be going off to university, and she would have to leave her cheerleading days behind her. But for now, she was determined to enjoy every moment of it while she still could.

“Why didn’t Este come to the game today, Elinor? I haven't seen her in ages," Kylie asked, breaking the silence as they walked into the locker room. She sat down on the bench and began to untie her shoes.

Elinor sighed, the warmth from the game slowly fading away. "Oh, you know how it is. Este's been busy with her internship and studying for finals. Plus, she's not really into sports like the rest of us." She began to untie her shoelaces, her mind drifting back to her friend. "I wish she could've been here though. I miss her."

Daphne, who was sitting next to her, put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry, Ellie. Este's just going through a phase. She'll come around eventually. In the meantime, we'll just have to make sure to keep you all entertained with our awesome cheerleading stunts." She winked, trying to lighten the mood.

Elinor smiled weakly in response. "Thanks, Daphne. I just wish she could've been here today."

As the girls began to change out of their cheerleading uniforms, Elinor felt a strange sensation come over her. Her stomach began to tighten, and she felt a sudden burst of warmth spread throughout her body. "Um, guys?" she stammered, clutching her midsection. "I don't feel so good."

Daphne looked up from tying her shoes. "You okay, Ellie?"

Elinor's hunched over as she noticed her midriff starting to rapidly expand. Her heart began to pound and she felt a sudden urge to push. The other girls in the locker room looked on in shock and horror as they realized what was happening. "You want me to get you a hot water bottle or something, Elinor?" Daphne asked, her voice trembling.

"No, it's not that... I think..." Elinor gasped as another contraction came over her, forcing her to double over in pain. She clutched at her midsection, feeling the sensation of what felt like a rock being forced from her body. "I think I'm having... I think I'm having a baby!"

Kylie and Daphne exchanged horrified looks, their faces draining of color. They exchanged a brief glance before Kylie spoke up, her voice trembling. "But... how? When did this happen?"

Elinor gritted her teeth as another contraction wracked her body, her muscles tensing and relaxing in a rhythm that seemed entirely out of her control. She felt the familiar burning sensation as her perineum stretched to its limit, and a sudden sharp pain as something ripped inside her. "I... I don't know," she managed to choke out between breaths. "I just felt... different... earlier today."

Daphne and Kylie exchanged glances again, their faces pale and terrified. Kylie swallowed hard before speaking up. "But... how can this be happening? We're in high school. You can't get pregnant just from having sex once, right?"

Jessica managed to set up a makeshift delivery area in the corner of the locker room using towels and blankets from their cheerleading equipment. The other girls looked on in horror and disbelief as Elinor's contractions grew closer together and more intense. Her screams of pain echoed off the tiled walls, making it clear that this was no ordinary stomach ache.

“Go get Headmaster Ambrose and the nurse, now! She's having a baby in here, for God's sake!" Daphne yelled, her voice cracking with fear. Kylie and Daphne took off at a run, sprinting down the hallways of the school, their heels clicking against the linoleum floors as they desperately searched for help.

Jessica, who had been standing close by, now found herself thrust into the role of birthing coach. She had seen it in the movies, of course, but never thought she'd actually be a part of something so raw and real. Elinor's screams were piercing, her body convulsing as wave after wave of pain coursed through her. Jessica did her best to comfort her friend, wiping the sweat from her forehead, rubbing her back, anything to try and ease the suffering.

"I can't... I can't... I just can't do this..." Elinor sobbed between contractions, her voice breaking. "It hurts so much..."

Elinor's words hung in the air as another contraction began, forcing her to double over. Jessica could see the perineum stretching, the skin turning an alarming shade of red. She braced herself, waiting for the inevitable tear. "You're doing great, Elinor," she lied, her voice steady. "You're almost there."

But it seemed to go on forever. As the pain intensified, Jessica could feel the hot wetness seeping through Elinor's clothes, pooling on the floor beneath her. She knew what it was, but she couldn't bring herself to say it out loud. Not yet. Not until the baby was born.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Elinor let out a primal scream and her body went rigid. Jessica watched in awe as something wet and squirming emerged from between her friend's legs. But that look of awe turned into horror as she realized it wasn't a baby. It was... something else. Something alien.

Elinor collapsed onto the makeshift bed of towels, gasping for air. Her body was covered in sweat, her hair a tangled mess. Jessica looked down at the squirming object in her hands, feeling a mixture of disbelief and fear. 

"What is it? Is it a boy or a girl?" Jessica asked, her voice trembling as she looked down at the strange object in her hands. It was small, about the size of a softball, and covered in a slimy, translucent membrane. It felt heavy, and there were strange markings etched into its surface. But it definitely wasn't human.

"Well whatever it is, it’s not human," Daphne gasped, staring at the writhing mass in Jessica's hands. The creature that had emerged from Elinor seemed to be covered in a thick, slimy membrane that glistened in the dim light. Its surface was etched with strange markings and lines, like some sort of twisted code. It twisted and squirmed in their hands, as if struggling to free itself.

It was a metallic like the surface of a cold, ancient machine, and etched with strange markings that seemed to shift and move as the light caught them. Jessica looked at Elinor, who was panting heavily, her face twisted in pain. "Elinor?" she whispered, feeling a growing sense of dread in her stomach. "What is it? Is it supposed to be like this?"

Daphne shook her head, her eyes wide with fear. "I don't know. I've never seen anything like it. But it's... it's not human." She glanced around the room, as if searching for something, or someone to help them.

Elinor's horror-stricken expression mirrored Jessica's as they stared at the alien creature in disbelief. The thing twisted and writhed in their hands, its surface shimmering like liquid metal in the dim light. It felt cold and heavy, unlike anything either of them had ever experienced before. The strange markings that covered its surface seemed to shift and move with each passing second, as if it were alive and trying to communicate with them. But it wasn't human, and that terrified them both.

"Oh my God," Elinor gasped, her voice trembling. "I-I don't understand what happened. I thought it was supposed to be a baby..." She trailed off, her eyes filling with tears. "It's not... it's not supposed to be like this."

Jessica exchanged a look of horror with Daphne as they continued to stare at the strange creature in their hands. It seemed to be writhing even more violently now, its surface shimmering in the dim light. They couldn't help but feel as if they were holding something incredibly fragile, yet impossibly powerful at the same time.

"Get rid of it…" Elinor whispered, her voice barely audible above the creature's squirming. Her eyes were wide with fear, and she shook her head, as if trying to deny the reality of the situation. "Please, get rid of it. Bury it someplace... far away from here." Her words sent a chill down Jessica's spine. "On the fire with it," she added, her voice cracking.

Jessica looked at Daphne, who was pale as a ghost, her lips pressed into a tight line. They both knew what Elinor was asking them to do. But they couldn't bring themselves to harm the creature, no matter how repulsive it seemed. It was still alive, still struggling, and deep down, they felt a strange sense of connection to it.

Elinor's words echoed in Jessica's mind as they continued to stare at the alien thing in their hands. "Get rid of it... on the fire with it..." The thought of burning the creature sent a shiver down her spine, and she knew Daphne felt the same way. They couldn't do it. They couldn't just dispose of something so alive and helpless, no matter how strange or frightening it might be.

"Uhh guys," Kylie's voice cut through the tense silence. "There’s this old guy standing at the door. He's like, really old and he's got this really creepy smile. He keeps saying something about adopting the cube."

Elinor's eyes widened at the thought of someone wanting to adopt the creature. "Good, throw it in a box and give it to him!" she exclaimed, her voice surprisingly harsh. She turned to the old man, her expression hardening. "Here you go, sir. Take it away from here. It's yours." She roughly thrust the struggling creature at the old man, who smiled sinisterly and took it from them.

As the old man walked away with the strange creature, Jessica and Daphne exchanged a worried glance. They couldn't help but feel a sense of loss and guilt, as if they had just given away something precious. The old man disappeared into the night, and the three friends were left standing in the dim light of the alley.

The reason that I’m considering this a bittersweet ending instead of a full blown downer ending is because there is an element of hope in it. Reginald Hargreeves taking Christopher away means that he has a chance to find a new home, a new purpose, and possibly even a family that will love and care for him. However, the fact that Jessica and Daphne are left feeling a sense of loss and guilt shows that they did care for the creature in their own way, even if they didn't fully understand it. This leaves room for the reader to interpret the ending as bittersweet, with both sadness and happiness intertwined.

[lietpolski]

0.) for bulgaria,,,,,u knew this was coming

ur the king and i'm the court jester doing a little hws bulgaria jig for your entertainment 🫡

1) what would their social media page/activity be like: i hate to say this... but this guy is on facebook!!!! maybe he has a twitter but he tweets like once every 9 months and it's like "Hi. I'm hungry". if this is canonverse where humans know nations exists he gets caught liking romania fancams (he doesn't know likes are public) old man bulgaria u mean the world to me

2) what animal they remind me of: your drawing of him as a black bird is the first thing that comes to mind!! :O

3) my thoughts on their design/aesthetic alone: BABYGIRL his canon uniform is SNAZZY and i just,, like how plain he is ig :,) it suits him and it's a great contrast next to ro's design!! 10/10

4) physical headcanons: i think he's a foodie!! especially when he's sad, he gives off the vibes that he curls up on the sofa with a tub of pistachio ice cream and cries the night away.... idk if this counts as a physical headcanon but i think he's physically older than ppl think!! i don't have a concrete age for him but smth like 26-29! he has a bit of a baby face though bless him (and i'm just VERY soft for romania finding him pretty,,)

5) social headcanons: he def keeps to his social circle i think!! he has a decent number of friends buuut he probably hasn't made new ones in decades :,) i think people often overlook him and don't think much of him because of his more meek disposition around new people and not being very flashy!

6) psychological headcanons: HE'S SUCH AN EMOTIONAL GUY,, which is so sweet considering i think that a lot of these characters have grown tough skin from their old age but bulgaria is so baby... he is resilient ofc!! but he shows a lot of emotions!! he wears his heart on his sleeve you can read him so easily :,) i also live for bulgaria with a,, weird fractured sense of pride? he's insecure about a lot of things, but at the same time he's prideful and a bit egotistical at times in a naive unintentional way. i feel like he also idolizes people and concepts very easily!

7) ship(s) with them that I like or at least consider: he and romania are an on-and-off married couple made for each other!!! but but but you've made me think about things like ro/bul/hungary and ro/bul/greece and those r super fun too! :O and i have this weird rarepair of him and england :,) for personal and deeply emotional reasons i also need him and serbia to fuck

8) made-up connections with other characters that weren't in the canon (friends, enemies, whatever): he likes russia a lot! and if i dare push my yugotalia agenda real quick... he adooores macedonia!! ALSO his relationship with hungary is so underexplored!! they don't have the same feud that she and romania do, but i think (at least historically) they get on each other's nerves and there's been a lot of tension there (hatefuck threesome when?) england likes to vacation at his home and b annoying. he kinda hates turkey but they're also friends (in typical balkan fashion) & he and greece would be good buds!! skiing friends too :D

9) headcanons about their past: fella has been through a shit ton!!!! if u ever ask yourself "why is he like this" the answer is what 500 years of ottoman occupation does to a mf hgjfg... and i like the hc i mentioned in my fic of him trying to get ro to marry him in the late 1800s to early 1900s :) ALSO him and greece's feud during the byzantium era!! he was scary back then!! i also loooove it when he's depicted as having been older during the ottoman years and so feeling some sense of responsibility for the other countries around him :,)

10) content about them I'd like to see more of: aaah him during either of the bulgarian empires!! under ottoman rule!! more balkan war stuff!! historical human aus!! i love him being pathetic but i want to see him angry and happy and powerful and in love and heartbroken and 🥺 also i. can never have enough vampire aus im weak

[ltkarma]

@cyklonn​​ asked :  ❛   i did violence to my own heart   ❜  

SHE KNOWS HOW THIS IS SUPPOSED TO WORK. knows the technicalities, knows the reason why they stand off alone - in her room, the one that’s half packed up with neatly stacked textbooks and endless pads of paper. with her bed sheets and posters rolled neatly into boxes and bags that litter the space like emotional landmines threatening to blow up at any moment. rhode island has never really been home , but it’s as much home as washington ever was. a place holder for something better - a stop gap on the way back to virginia and what feels like real freedom. avi still feels a little awkward in her dress whites - like a kid again. swamped in her dad’s jacket and counting the ribbons carefully, one by one - bug eyed and fascinated by each line and stripe. each golden button and lapel pin. each colour meant something different that she didn’t quite understand. now she understands every single one, every single reason and every single sacrifice. maybe she understands too clearly , maybe that’s why part of this feels painful before it’s even started.

the two scars on his chest never did make much sense when she was growing up. buried somewhere beneath a deep tan and wirey chest hair , they’d only show up when he took her swimming and even then they were just part of who he was. two tough circles dotted neatly above his heart , as regular as a freckle or a birthmark. unquestioned but holy. two marks from the wings that were always fixed to any given uniform he owned. twin marks that she now knows were beat into his flesh and through muscle by another’s fist. 

beau stands in front of her holding the pin between thick fingers. burnished gold. the sword and the lightning bolt crossed over each other -- not wings like his own, not like will’s. something different. dam neck calls her name eventually , already knowing she’ll end up with seal team six. her orders aren’t exactly a secret - her knowledge of kurdish dialect has given her an advantage she wants to follow - but going without this just doesn’t feel right, going without the real badge of pride that sits just below her new commission makes her feel lesser. no matter how much she knows it’s going to hurt, no matter the price. avi’s eyes close tightly as she nods and swallows, hands folded behind her back - elbows pressed against each other in a stoic determination. 

when his fist hits her chest for the first time she judders sharply. eyes still shut - lips sealed into a firm line as a gasp of pain falls out unwillingly against the silence in the room and movement outside in the corridor. the sharp pins cut into her flesh effortlessly, through the vest- drawing drops of ruby to the surface of the cotton. but before she can waiver he’s on her again and again and again and again - his fist hitting her with such force that her breath gets caught in her lungs and her legs shake. it takes everything she has not to move, not to back up against the bookcase as she finally focuses on beau’s set jaw and the tick that beats heavily there as he moves back to strike again. the final blow is the one that makes her break, the cry of pain finally tumbling and moving through her body, wavering  ---- her chest ACHING. her shirt crimson as she leans forward, her forehead hitting Beau’s pressed ivory uniform as his hand falls to the top of her head gently and his other around her waist.   

“ This should have been your dad. ” his words are quiet, apologetic.  but his tone is steady, filled with pride - soft baritone of his voice filling the space between them as avi stays still , the pain still feeling like blazing fire across her chest as she looks down between them to the the blush of angry red burning at her breast. the lump in her throat sits solid and firm, her eyes closing again as she tries to breathe through it - wondering if her dad would wanted to do it or if it would have been beau the whole time. either way it’s done - pins forced through and still pushed against flesh that aches. sometimes pain is good - pain is necessary to feel anything other than what you fear.

“ I think it was always going to be you. ”  her words don’t count for much, but she hopes he believes her. she hopes he knows how much the urge for him to hold her overwhelms her, only the warm blood that sits cloying and damp against her skin stopping her from leaning into him completely. 

sometimes pain is necessary. for avi it always has been --  and as long as this is her true love , it always will be. 

[justagirlsearchingforamuse]

𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔰 𝔯𝔢𝔩𝔦𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯 - 𝔠𝔞𝔯𝔩 𝔤𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔞𝔤𝔥𝔢𝔯

summary: you are working with carl and shortly after rush hour, he asks you for a sexual favor and you can’t really refuse a good offer.

pairing: carl gallagher x afab!reader

warnings: smut, semi-public smut, swearing, kissing, and bathroom smut.

“i’d be more than happy to show you a good time if you’re looking for one” he purrs, one side of his lips turned upwards into his signature smirk with nothing pure or friendly about the look in his eyes, a cigarette in between his fingers as his eyes meet yours. carl gallagher. a coworker of yours you’d been working with for a few weeks now, you kept a professional facade whilst working at captain bob’s and despite how much you hated Lori. The bitch would constantly flirt with Carl and harrass him, taking advantage of the fact he didn’t know better and needed the job, she’d favor him and treat him different. but despite how much you wanted to keep your relationship with him professional, there was a charm about carl that most people would fall victim to. but despite how much you tried to keep your professional even if it meant you were rude towards him, you couldn’t deny how he made you feel, the butterflies in the pit of your stomach, or how he’d make you smile and laugh on your work breaks and outside of work.

“for your knowledge, i’m not on birth control so you better have a condom, pretty boy …” a short chuckle exits your lips as you check each stall, making sure at least one is clean before you pick a stall that seems clean enough. your heart can barely remain still and your stomach is light and fluttery with butterflies swarming your stomach, licking your lips, you enter the stall with him right behind you. fuck, your panties were quickly becoming drenched in your juices of arousal, he shuts the stall door and locks it swiftly. it’s pure silence for a moment just until his hands wrap around your waist, bringing your hips towards his, his erect cock eager to get out of his pants, to be inside of you, or to feel the warmth of your lips. a short smile curls upon your lips before a gasp exits your lips at the new sensation of his hands sliding down the front of your jeans, he leaves light and slow kisses against your neck as his fingers move in light but quick circles around your clit.

“fuck~” the curse fell from your lips breathlessly as your body tingles, weak and vulnerable to the way carl moves his fingers against your sweet spot, sending waves and waves of bliss through you, he’s never been patient but seeing you like this, merely weak and panting at simple strokes from his fingers, pride began to swell inside of him. smirking, he suddenly spins you around causing you to gasp as you found yourself pressed against the stall door before his lips swiftly move onto yours, hungry and impatient as he groans against your lips, savoring every little sensation from the kiss. his hands move onto your breasts, groping them through the thin uniform as you both fall deeply into the kiss, but you needed oh so much more. you push him off of you, he lands onto the toilet, you rush to get those pants off as your body was aching for him. he quickly pushes his pants down to his thighs as you moved to straddle his lap, with a playful grin resting upon your lips, your arms wrap around his sturdy shoulders as his eyes gaze into yours. dreamy and clouded with lust, slightly squinted and he had such a pretty face, you break your gaze to take his thick cock inside of you, your fingers are wrapped around it as you slowly move his cock in between your folds, earning a hiss from carl at the sudden and new wet sensation that gushes through him, his heart begins to thump in his chest, and his breaths quickly become ragged.

“fuck, hurry up …” he whispers, a ragged breath following after before a sharp moan is torn from his lips, his cock’s engulfed in this warm silky sensation that washes over him like a tsunami, his thighs tremble as his lips part, short and heavy breaths leaving them. he places his hands on your hips as he leans back a bit, impatient and eager as ever.

“so impatient … trust me, i’ll fuck you real good~” you purr, almost rolling his eyes at you, he’s quickly taken aback by the sudden rolling of your hips as you pried a heavy curse from his lips, as short but heavy waves of bliss course through him, his eyes flutter close as he relaxes beneath you. you roll your hips swiftly and lightly, his thick cock stretches your walls, filling you perfectly as you can’t stop the whimpers and ragged breaths that are pried from your lips. you continue to roll your hips for a few moments longer, adjusting yourself to him, but hypocritically you begin to roughly throw your hips up and down on his cock, making sweet sinful curses fall from your lips as his cock lightly hits your sweet spot, causing a frenzy of sensations to sprout. someone enters the bathroom, a man with a gruff voice, probably older and you quickly notice, your eyes widen for a moment and your movements slow down.

before you can tell or notify carl who was too invested in all the ecstasy that clouds his being, he puts his hand over your mouth, his eyebrows are furrowed as he sits up, throwing and thrusting his hips upwards swiftly, repeatedly hitting your sweet spot and that sensitive bundle of nerves that leaves you a mess in his lap, moaning into his hand at the ecstasy that he gives you, his expression shifts into that of pleasure, his teeth buried in his bottom lip as he tries to silence his heavy ragged breaths that somehow slip out. warm thick waves travel through his body as he roughly thrusts his hips into you, your muffled moans not silent in the slightest as you grind your hips against his lap, desperate to meet his movements. the man’s in the stall right next to you both, just feet away as he takes a piss, you pray he doesn’t notice but your desires and need overcome the possible shame that would wash over you afterwards. spreading his legs further apart, he thrusts his hips into you sloppily and roughly, repeatedly hitting that sweet spot, you’re pratically salivating in his hand. moving your hips to meet his thrusts, it’s just wave after wave of pleasure, it’s unwavering, blunt, and so fucking good. he notices how you’re getting wetter, his cock’s throbbing in the soaking hot that he just can’t get enough of, he notices the man stops pissing and walks away from the stalls towards the sinks.

“kids these days have no shame, do they?” he murmurs, but carl hears it, would roll his eyes if he wasn’t busy fucking you until you see stars, then the man finally leaves and his hand moves away from your mouth as heavy breaths and whimpers exit your lips after, your thighs begin to tremble and your entire body is tingling, throbbing, and fuck you’re so close. he pushes your shirt up to your shoulders, moving your bra to the side, he takes one of your erect nipples in his mouth, lightly sucking on the sensitive nub, your hips erratically buck against his now sloppy thrusts as you inch closer and closer to edge. your hands find their way into his hair, you quickly clutch a handful of his silky locks, his name exiting your lips in desperate and higher-pitched whimpers, your heart could explode in your chest, and the sheer intensity of it all drove you deeper into ecstasy.

he presses himself against you, desperate to be close to you when he finally reaches his breaking point, his nails almost buried into your skin as he helps you move your hips to his sloppy thrusts, his name falls from your lips in a low groan and then it just hits. a heavy yet content moan falls from his lips as a frenzy of bliss explodes inside of him, leaves him breathless and exhausted beneath you. you continue to frantically buck your hips against his now throbbing cock, a series of curses exit your lips before his name falls from your lips in a sharp and breathless moan, you almost collasp on top of him entirely as your thighs tremble for a moment longer and you sit on his lap for a few moments longer, listening to your heavy breaths for a few moments.

“okay … we gotta get back to work. lori’s probably gonna be nosey and questioning where we were …” you say in between your heavy breaths, getting up from his lap as you quickly find your panties and jeans, he pulls up his pants with a long sigh and you exit shortly afterwards with him right behind you. you walk towards the sinks, fixing your hair in the mirror and making sure nothing was too out of place. “um … i was wondering if maybe … we could keep doing this in the future if that’s okay with you?” he asks, leaning against the sink with a slight desperation in his eyes, maybe he was naive to think that a simple fuck could be something more but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t fond of you. “maybe, carl … i just gotta figure shit out before i jump into a relationship but i do really like you carl. you have a good heart …” you answer, your eyes turning to him as you notice a short frown form onto his lips, but he’s hopeful and optimistic of something in the near future with you. you smile warmly at him and exit the bathroom, your stomach flooded with butterflies as you can’t stop the warm smile resting upon your lips.

[ameliora-j]

show me // rw x reader

words: 1.5k

warnings: smut, innocence kink, corruption kink, oral (f receiving), overstimulation, fingering (f receiving)

a/n: maybe multi part if it doesn’t flop idk

to ron you were perfect. the picture of innocence. and everytime he looked at you… all he wanted was to have you on your knees for him, choking around his cock as he filled your throat and painted your body with his seed.

he felt bad for these thoughts, of course. you were innocent. you stopped in the middle of hogsmeade to look at the flowers. you helped people with their homework. the entire school had deigned you ‘the y/h princess’ for how perfectly innocent you were. wide, doe-like eyes, a pretty smile, and a seemingly permanent blush painted across your cheeks.

ron was your potions partner—and your crush for three years—and when you came to potions in the tight shirt and short skirt, he snapped. the skirt fell just below the curve of your bum, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination, and the shirt showed just enough cleavage. you didn’t do it on purpose, of course… you hadn’t had anymore clean uniforms, forcing you to pull on your one from fifth year. it still fit, but your body had grown and curves accentuated since two years ago. when ron laid his eyes upon you, his pants tightened considerably around his crotch.

“hi ronnie,” you smiled as you sat beside him.

“hi dove,” you blushed at the nickname, a swarm of butterflies erupting in your tummy. he’d called you dove for as long as you can remember, but it never failed to make you swoon.

“hey ln! i dropped something, could you pick it up for me?” draco snarked behind you. ron turned to glare at the two slytherin boys as you reached for the book draco had dropped.

“he can get it himself dovey, he’s got hands,” ron snarled as he fixed the smirking boys with a hard glare. you just shrugged and returned to taking your notes.

all day continued on like this. boys throwing remarks at you and you were clueless as to what they meant. as you were walking by ron’s side out to the courtyard, mclaggen called “hey ln, mind if i take a turn after weasley there? i’ll let you tickle my pickle for a nickel!” teasingly across the hall.

you looked up at ron with slightly furrowed brows. “wha’s he talkin about ronnie?” you asked innocently.

“you really don’t know, do you dovey?” ron asked as he looked down at you, sympathetically. you shook your head as a pout crossed your features. ron offered you a small smile as he pushed your hair away from your face. “your skirts really short today, dove. he’s asking you to do something sexual for him,” ron informed you.

your eyes practically tripled in size. “didn’t know! promise i didn’t. didn’t have any clean uniforms. had to use one from fifth year,” your pout deepened.

“i know you didn’t, dove,” ron kissed your head gently. “mclaggen’s a jerk.”

“is that what everyone’s meant today? they want to do something sexual to me?” you asked and he nodded. “do… do you?” you asked shyly.

ron blushed slightly at the question. “do i want to do something sexual to you?” he asked and you nodded. “i respect you enough to not do anything, dove.” he kissed your nose.

“but have you ever… thought about it?” you asked.

“once or twice,” he answered casually.

“show me…” you whispered so lowly that ron almost didn’t hear you.

“what?” he gulped.

“show me… what you thought about doing,” as you looked up for him, asking him to do something dirty so casually, you were still the perfect picture of innocence. ron closed his eyes tightly and inwardly groaned as he thought about all the things he could do to you.

“are you sure dove?” he asked.

“positive ronnie. want it. please,” you told him. he took your hand gently and lead you up to his dorm. once he closed the door, he kissed you softly.

“gonna go slow, dove. don’t wanna do too much for your first time, okay?” you hummed softly as he returned his lips to your’s and kissed you dumb. “lay on the bed f’me,” you did as you were told and stared up at him.

he pulled the rings off his fingers and set them in your hand. “hold these f’me, yeah dove? keep ‘em safe.” you nodded and closed your hand around the silver circles in your palm as he kissed down your neck. he slowly unbuttoned your shirt as he continued to kiss down your body gently.

“gonna eat your pretty pussy, that okay dove?” he checked for your consent and you nodded. “words please,” he spoke gently.

“yes ron,” you murmured softly. “that’s okay,” you whispered softly.

he smirked as he pulled your panties up and found your cunt already slick with arousal. he left open-mouthed kisses up your thighs. you let soft moans escape your mouth as you closed your eyes. “has anyone ever touched you here, dove?” he asked, breath fanning over your clit.

“no,” you shook your head, whimpering softly as he left a small, open-mouthed kiss on your clit.

“have you ever touched yourself?” just the question made you blush and he smirked. chest swelling with pride at the fact that he got to be the first person to make you feel good. he reached up his hand and intertwined your fingers. “hold my hand, dove. gonna make you feel so good.” you nodded and squeezed his hand gently, moaning softly as you felt his tongue lick a stripe over your cunt.

once ron got his first taste, he ate you like a starved man. he moaned at the taste as he licked fervently at your cunt, reducing you to a moaning mess above him. you gasped and shuddered as he wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked gently. “please…” you whimpered. “p-please,” you repeated, not even sure what you were begging for at this point.

but somehow, ron knew exactly what you needed. he reached his free hand up and slowly circled your opening with his middle finger. you moaned loudly as he pushed his finger through the ring of muscles and began thrusting slowly. “more… please more,” you whimpered. he pushed in a second finger and curved them, causing you to moan again and buck your hips.

“gotta stay still for me dove,” ron whispered softly, before returning to eating your cunt like a wild animal.

“ronnie… ronnie my tummy feels weird,” you whimpered softly.

“gonna cum dovey. let it go,” he whispered. “cum on my tongue dove, wanna taste you.” you did as he said, feeling all of your muscles relax as your back careened off the mattress and you repeated please and whimpers mixed in with his name.

ron pulled his mouth away from your clit, using his fingers to fuck you through your first ever orgasm as his eyes locked on you. somehow, even stuffed full with his fingers you looked so… innocent. he pulled his fingers from you and sucked them clean before diving back in, cleaning you up.

you shrieked at the overstimulation as you squeezed his hand and bucked into his mouth. he fucked you with his tongue and circled your clit, latching his mouth to your cunt and sucking softly. ron was a god with his mouth, there was no denying that. it was mere minutes before he felt you cumming in his mouth again. you whimpered softly as he continued his soft licks up your slit to bring you down.

he placed one last open-mouthed kiss to your clit before kneeling up on the bed. “precious,” he whispered as he stared down at you. eyes blown, lips bitten red and swollen, cunt still slick with your own cum and arousal, chest rapidly rising and falling, and hair a mess. you smiled dazedly up at him as you squeezed his hand again.

“thank you ronnie,” you murmured softly.

“of course, dovie,” he smiled.

“wha’s that?” you asked as you pointed to the tent in his pants.

“i’ll teach you another time, yeah dove? let’s get you in the bath, okay?” you nodded, too tired to argue as he lifted your limp body in his arms and walked you into the bathroom. he set you on the porcelain bowl and allowed you to go as he readied your bath.

he was gently in cleaning you up, mindful of all your sensitive spots. once he was all done, he put you in a pair of his boxers and his quidditch sweatshirt, allowing you to curl into his chest and play with his fingers as you came down. “ronnie?” you asked softly.

“yes dove?” he asked.

“does this mean you’re my boyfriend now?” you asked him.

“if you want me to be,” he smiled at you. you nodded with a small smiled as you looked up at him. he leaned down and pressed his lips gently against your’s. “go to sleep dove, i’ll be right here, okay?”

“okay,” you whispered, allowing your exhaustion to overcome you.

tags: @i-love-scott-mccall @roonilwazlibswhore @bellatrixscurls @ronweasleylover1 @mollysolo @hogwartshomiehopper @missryerye @marrymetheonott @black-rose-29 @shrekboobies @mypainistemporary @vayeya11 @ivettt @gloryekaterina @biles-bilinskiii @ameliasbitvh

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[djarinsbeskar]

Counterstrike - Boxer!Din AU

Definition -  a strike that retaliates against an earlier strike.

A/N: Finally back with a long awaited instalment for Boxer!Din. I’m floored by the response he has received since I posted him first and I just wanted to thank you all so much for showing him (and me) so much love (and lust). In particular, I’d like to dedicate this instalment to @bestinbeskar @honestly-shite @3frontier and @pedro4ever for the gorgeous art of Boxer!Din they each made! Links can be found on the Boxer!Din masterlist below.

Word Count: 3.5k

Rating: 18+ (NO Minors)

Warnings: SMUT! Unprotected sex (do as I say, not as I write), semi-public sex, rough dom!Din, dirty talking, no beta.

Main Masterlist | Boxer Materlist

Ever since he first fucked you in the middle of his boxing ring, Din had developed a bit of a bad habit. A habit that involved finding some way to bury his cock inside you ever time he saw you; an inconvenience since you mostly came across each other in less than private settings. His gym, the sports clinic, or the massage studio you worked at.

It was sweltering, the city falling under the hold of a heatwave that no number of cold showers would help cool. Din ran hot by nature, and the heat only served to make him two things: irritable and horny.

That might explain the near instant reaction he had to the tempting little sundress you wore to combat the suffocating heat when you popped your head around the main doors of the gym. Your day off if the lack of uniform was anything to go by. A vision in coral pink and flushed skin, you beamed against the metal and muted, dark tones of the boxing area.

Sweat dropped down his temple from where he lay on the bench press, bare chest glistening and muscles taut as he lowered the barbell down slowly to his chest. Trained, expert eyes – honed instinct to notice every miniscule move of an opponent – picked up the flash of color and immediately flickered over to where you were approaching him.

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.

His jaw clenched as he turned his attention resolutely back up to stare at the ceiling, focus Djarin. With a measured exhale, his muscles bunched to press the heavy weight back up away from his body, held it for a beat, and let it lower once more on a slow inhale.

Three more.

His head turned towards you to admire your form as you traced your hand over the dumbbell stand, skilled fingers walking along the progressively heavier weights while your eyes met his in the wall of mirrors behind the stand. You smiled. And it lit your face up.

Jesus fucking Christ.

His eyes dropped from yours down your body indulgently, content to hold the weight of the barbell a beat longer. The way that dress clung to every damned curve he wanted to sink his fingers and teeth into, the swish of the skirt barely reaching the middle of supple thighs that looked better thrown over his shoulders. The fucking nerve you had to not bother concealing the faded mark on the top of your breast where it peeked out from over your neckline where he left it several days ago.

His mouth twisted into a snarl, his mark. Damn fucking right.

You were teasing him, crossing one ankle over the other to turn towards him with a dainty twirl of your skirt. Don’t get distracted on the bench, he growled to himself internally, and with a grunt, he pushed the barbell back up, the lines of muscles that cut across his triceps flexing taut and his pectorals pulsed from the strain of exercising them.

The pulse of his cock in his gym shorts on the other hand, that wasn’t a muscle that was supposed to be engaged for this particular exercise.

Two more.

“Miss me already, sweetheart?”

He ground out, voice rough and strained—keenly aware of the sway of your hips as you walked back towards the bench, his eyes at perfect eye level to thighs he wanted to wrap around his waist. You passed his head – fuck, he could smell you from here – to stand by his hips. He brought the barbell back down slowly towards his chest, breathing more labored than it should be and his jaw clenched in frustration. You were getting to him.

His grip on the metal bar almost slipped entirely when you hiked up the skirt of your dress to kick one leg over the bench and straddle his hips, the sudden weight and heat making him grunt in surprise.

You were soaked—he realized at the same time it dawned on him that you weren’t wearing any underwear.

“Does this answer your question?”

Voice as light and airy as the lavender scent that suffused the room you gave massages in—making his teeth grind and his hips struggle to remain still when memories of that same voice breathless and gasping with moans he elicited rose in his memory.

You rubbed yourself over the thick outline of him through his gym shorts – you little fucking tease – and sweat wasn’t the only thing dampening them anymore.

“Finish your workout, Din,” you sighed breathily, hooded eyes scanning the empty gym floor appreciatively—basking in the ability to rock so openly and languidly over his throbbing cock. It was a sunny day. It was the end of the week. No one was in the gym—and that was precisely why Din chose to work out now.

His eyes never left yours, molten pools filling with dark promise clashed with yours as your small hands found the planes of his tight abdomen, the muscles clenching sensitively under your touch,

“Keep your back straight… don’t want to injure yourself again—” you purred and received a warning growl in response when he pushed the weight back up, a ripple of heated arousal gathering low at his spine and tightening to a coil beneath your hands that indulgently ran over toned muscles and tawny, inked skin.

One more.

Fuck… but you felt so good. Grinding on him like that.

Din’s hips rocked up against you despite himself, his heels pressing into the grate metal flooring to push his clothed cock against your dripping cunt, your soft gasp when he caught your clit music to his ears and the last bit of motivation he needed to drop the barbell back to his chest. You focused your ruts on the tip of his bulge, the fucking audacity you had to use him to get yourself off—grinding your clit over his soaked shorts and digging short nails into his stomach while soft, gentle eyes darkened with lust bore into his.

He lowered his hips again, smirking at the soft whine of annoyance you couldn’t mask in order to adjust his posture correctly. With one last exhale, a panted curse as corded muscles tensed and released with a final burst of energy, his arms straightened once more above him.

Finally.

He had a hand tangled in the length of your hair before the clatter of the metal barbell hitting the hooks of the stand above him died out, yanking you down until your breasts were flush with his heaving chest. His other hand – calloused and rough – grabbed a fistful of your ass, the soft material of your dress bunching effortlessly in his hand,

“Didn’t get enough last week, baby?” he growled against your mouth, guiding your hips over his cock harder now that he could thrust shallowly against you, grinning darkly at your keen of frustration when his mouth glanced yours, avoiding kissing you, “fuck, you’re soaked for me already—”

Teeth grazing your jaw, you arched your neck back in blind submission, the hand caught against his stomach shifting down to tug at his shorts, succeeding in getting them only halfway down. You both groaned at the contact when wet, slick heat burned around the leaking head of his cock, making the heatwave outside feel like nothing more than a warm breeze.

“Din…” you moaned when a perfectly timed grind of his hips knocked the blunt tip against your hooded bundle of nerves, “a week is too long…” you admitted to the boxer’s delight. Finally. He wasn’t the only one going stir crazy only seeing you sporadically.

“Yeah?” he rasped, tightening his hold in your hair so he could keep your head pulled back while he licked a small trickle of sweat that was slowly making its way down to the hollow of your throat, “thinking about my cock all this time?”

Feral pride filled him at your immediate nod, his chest swelling with a primal snarl – why the fuck did you have to agree so easily, he’d never stop thinking about it now – and captured your lips heatedly with his own. Growling your name, he plundered your mouth—lapping along your tongue and groaning at your taste, swallowing your soft sighs and mewls of satisfaction at finally having his lips on yours again.

His hand dropped from your hair to drag down your spine, down the thin fabric that clung to your heated skin until he was dipping two thick digits between exposed cheeks to swipe through your drenched folds. Circling, spreading, coaxing whines and groans of his name with every press of his fingers. Music more beautiful than even the most skilled pianist could create, and all from the fingers of a fighter.

Conversation from elsewhere in the vicinity carried through empty corridors and with a dip of his fingers into your quivering entrance – chestnut eyes sharpened to dark amber watching doe eyes flutter shut in pleasure – his words breathed into your mouth when your lips parted against his,

“Locker room. Now.”

What followed was a heated scramble, a need to be close—to remain in this transcendent bubble of scorching touches and burning attraction. He practically dragged you with him across the gym floor, weaving between machines with his hand wrapped firmly around your wrist. You already looked wrecked, thoroughly corrupted with mused hair, and crooked clothing. Your legs wobbled as you followed his menacing frame, eyes glued to the shifting muscles in his back, an apex predator dragging his prey back to devour in rapture. You went willingly.

The tiles of the shower cubicle were cold when he shoved you against them – the only place remotely private in the locker room when he tugged the thin curtain closed behind you – his hands flexing around your jaw when he turned your face up for him to kiss. Free hand pressing into the small of your back, he made you arch against him, and you mewled at the solid length of him throbbing against your stomach.

“Fucking gorgeous,” he rumbled, hand snaking around to disappear beneath the skirt of your dress again as he rocked his hips against you slowly—cupping your cunt and his teeth leaving a trail of bites down your throat as his words whispered across the tiles.

You blushed.

He saw it—even above the flush of arousal, he saw your cheeks darken and your eyes flicker to the side at his words. Avoiding his gaze, expecting a hunter’s response of claws and teeth to your doe-like display of weakness—and his eyes softened minutely. Some of the aggressive tightness bled from his gaze which he hid in a nip to your jaw, the heel of his hand rubbing in tempting circles over your swollen clit while his fingers split along your entrance, smearing your slick over puffy lips.

You rocked your hips over his hand needily, fingers scratching down the sides of his neck, scoring passion into the tanned skin and whispers against his lips – please Din, please – along with the pleasurable pain rippling from your nails compelled him to shove two fingers knuckle deep into your tight cunt.

He covered your mouth quickly with his palm when an unadulterated moan ricocheted off the tiles, echoing louder – “fuck baby, quiet” – was hissed against your cheek even as his fingers picked up a merciless pace of pump pump pump, his thumb swiping across your clit, his speed building—making it harder for you to stay quiet as you whimpered against his hand.

Nails digging into his shoulders, you buried your face into his sweat slick neck when he dropped his hand from your mouth to hike your leg up over his arm, spread you wider for him to thrust soaked fingers into your sopping core.

When you came the first time, you bit his neck—his teeth baring from the sting while his fingers scissored against your convulsing walls, dragging you through contractions of pleasure that sent spikes of electricity to cloud your brain in a muffled babble of yes yes yes sobbed into his neck.

Condensation misted the tiles by your head as heat lifted from sweltering bodies. Din growled praise, rough rasps of “good girl, that’s it…” into your ear as you relaxed around fingers that were lazily curling up inside you, your mouth working lazily over the sensitive point where his jaw met his neck, nipping—licking, begging him to fuck you.

His brain short circuited.

His large body caging you against the wall, you preened and arched and tempted him into you with soft sighs of his name and your hands tracing down to the hem of his shorts. Heavy, lust-pooled eyed followed your hands, watching you pull him from his shorts and stroke him with expert fingers that never failed to make him fall apart—on your table, in your bed… you bewitched him with touch since first he met you. He was a slave to it.

“Fuck, baby—” he groaned, his head falling back before he swiped your hands away from his swollen length, giving it a few hard strokes as he ran the head between your exposed folds. He filled you with on thrust, a filthy squelch as your pussy accepted him – unable to be gentle, unable to take his time when all he could think of was claiming you over and again, of meeting your counterstrike with a knockout and hearing your surrender in cries of his name.

He was big—so big that every time he filled you, it felt like he was splitting you apart. The smallest hint of pain, the breach of his cock melting into a delicious fire that licked and coated your nerves as the fat head knocked against soft tissue inside you. He found his pace with a slow rut that dragged his cock along tight walls where you could feel every single vein throb enticingly against you.

His facial hair sanded across your cheek as he panted how good you felt, how tight—how addicted he was to the feel of you, how he wanted to fuck you for hours. Your nails curved down over the muscles of his shoulder blades, along his waist—basking in his size, his strength—his head lowering to scrape his teeth over the swell of your breast, sucking over the ghost of his previous mark and drawing blood back to the surface as he snapped his hips back into you.

And then the door to the locker room opened, and conversation filled it.

Din didn’t even think before slamming his fist onto the water pressure, drenching the two of you in seconds with cool water and drowning the sounds of his cock slamming into you with the hiss of water falling in rivulets down your bodies.

You moaned, too far gone to know – or care – that you weren’t alone, and his hand came back up to cover your mouth with a warning growl into your ear, “Shut up, unless you want to give them a show.”

Even as he said it, his pace grew harder—punching gasps and sounds of surprised pleasure from parted lips that were only mitigated by the calloused palm he folded over them. Your nipples pebbled through soaked fabric, drawing his eager mouth down to suck it raw through the dress, whimpers for more echoed in the tight clench of your cunt around his glistening length.

Steam filled the shower, bleeding out into the locker room where laughter and conversation blended to mask the wet slaps of his skin against yours, the sodden movement of clothes and his guttural groans around your nipple as you clawed at his undulating back.

“Din—” you whispered, panting as strands of your hair fell into your face—fucked out and divine when his mouth slanted over yours again, your chest heaving while one hand lifted to cup his jaw, keeping his mouth on yours. He snapped into the dripping grasp of your pussy hard, shoving you up the wall onto your toes, the graze of the short coarse hairs at the base of his cock tickling over your sensitive clit.

“So fucking loud…” he growled on a whip of anger, the sound cracking down the feral possessiveness of his tone and making you moan. He would spank that pretty ass red, your pussy pink if there wasn’t the risk of the sound carrying to the other athletes getting changed for their workout.

Oh well.

That just meant he would have to take you again later.

His balls tightened and his stomach clenched at the thought, fuck. He wanted you again and he hadn’t even cum yet—your tight little cunt already quivering and tightening around him with your oncoming orgasm as he lost himself in eyes flooded with open desire— disarming him with the candor he saw reflected in them. He swallowed thickly.

“Gonna ruin you, sweetheart,” was his immediate reaction, the only way he could think to reciprocate. A gush of wetness pushed around his cock drilling into you, your walls getting impossibly tighter, and he smirked darkly—his nose pressing into your cheek, teeth bared and feral, “you’d like that, huh?”

Delirious nods were all you were capable of as silent gasps kept your lips parted, eyes rolling back when his thumb dropped to draw tight, fixated little circles on your clit—forcing you over the edge with a final blow that sucked the breath right out of you, the boxer taking and taking and taking everything he wanted from you with wet thrusts and brutal bites to your already marked neck.

He swallowed your orgasm with his mouth, the wet strands of his hair dripping water onto your pretty face as he sucked your tongue into his mouth, dropping his free hand to slide down the length of your side as his thrust turned erratic, chasing his high—chasing that bliss he could only find buried deep inside you.

“Cum, Din—cum,” you breathed, cupping his face as you smiled—exhaustion written plain on your face and his brows pinched in concentration, dropping his forehead to your shoulder with a gasp of your name, breathless as he pulled out—his hand moving frantically over the swollen length of him until he coated your mound and dress with his release. It washed away in streaks of milky white down your body, a subtle pang of fatigued frustration to see it disappear so quickly flashing though him.

The locker room was silent when he turned the water pressure off.

Apart from your labored breathing, the locker room was silent—the prior occupants leaving none the wiser or – if they had heard anything – wisely leaving.

Din dropped your leg from where it remained hooked over his arm, his hands fisting in the skirt of your dress to drag the sodden material up and over your head with a shiver at the uncomfortable feeling of wet clothes.

The sight of your naked body made his softening cock twitch, dammit. You were all gentle curves and soft skin, clothed in the marks of his mouth and bruises of his grip.

He wanted you again.

And caged within his arms, trapped with his hands pressed either side of your head, his shaggy head of soaked waves falling into dark, guarded eyes—you could admit you wanted him again too.

“I’ll wash your dress,” he rasped gruffly, taking a step back from you and kicking off his shorts to wring out and toss into his gym bag. He left the shower with effortless calm, as if he wasn’t stark naked but returned with a towel for you to wrap yourself in.

You flashed him a grateful smile that stuttered when he tossed another – smaller – towel on your head, rubbing it quickly over your soaked locks despite your complaints, a crooked smirk your only indication that he was playing.

“You don’t have t—”

“You can wait for it to dry at my place.”

His words brokered no argument as you padded after him into the empty locker room, the boxer rummaging through his own locker to pull out a simple white t-shirt—long enough to cover you… just about. The hem fell shorter than your dress and you were distinctly aware of your lack of underwear when you pulled it on.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he rumbled as he tugged a tight black muscle shirt over his head, looking down at you with a devastating smirk and sinfully half-lidded eyes, “I don’t share. No one will see you.”

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[unohanadaydreams]

This was originally an ask I answered quite a while ago that I’ve gone back and edited. It went from 1k to 1.6k words so it’s been significantly reworked, so much so that if you’ve read it before, it’s enough of a new piece that you’ll hopefully enjoy reading it again! I’ve edited the original ask to reflect all changes, but believe me--it’s been through a transformation.

But, yeah, I’ve gotten quite a few asks for hurt/comfort Ukitake so this is an offering for all of you!! He only suffers a lil bit. <3

so close and yet so far from death [1.6k]

Jushiro Ukitake x Reader:

Falling to her knees, Kiyone pressed her blubbering face against the thin door. “He won’t tell us! Not a thing,” she said, like she was struggling to contain a sob.

Sentaro’s arms circling around her waist, he tugged her to a stand.

“We tried our best.” Despite his eyes holding yours, it seemed more a reassurance for the down trodden Kiyone leaning against him.

Your smile was soft when it lifted.

When had they ever failed at keeping their captain first in their hearts and minds?

“Of course, you did,” you said, trying to infuse your thanks into a tender tone. “Thank you for your efforts.”

Relieving them from their post with a squeeze to Sentaro’s shoulder and a ruffle of Kiyone’s hair, you pressed on.

And immediately crouched to the floor, your fingers smoothing over the warm knit blanket tossed in the entry way, your heart squeezing.

Oh, Jushiro.

You smothered your face in the blanket. Breathed in his scent. Desperate to collect yourself with arms full of buttery soft yarn. You waited, crouched and tense, for the knot of tears that pricked at your throat to loosen and dissolve away.

The growing sadness only made the tears spill. How hypocritical of you--wishing  Jushiro would see more than pity in your actions, while you paused here…pitying you both.

With a soft determination, you nodded, brushed tears from warm cheeks.

“Right!” Using the momentum of your renewed hope, you hoisted yourself up, wrapped the blanket around your shoulders, and toed off both your sandals. Your thoughts of ‘poor Jushiro’ left in the doorway with them.

The blanket hugged you, warm and comfortable as you padded across the tatami mat to the backyard. You might have paused longer without the yarn-spun shield--near dead, with Fall smoothly moving to embrace Winter, the garden looked unwelcoming.

The chill of stepping outside slapped at your exposed face in uneven bursts of wind, but you persisted, fingers foisted in the blanket.

You seemed to spot him all at once, as though the slump of his frame had camouflaged him. His bleak mood folding him into the similarly blanched surroundings.

He was without his captain’s coat. The thin, faded kimono he often wore to bed was all that shielded him from the wind’s bite. Strands of his long, bone white hair lifted, like the wind was a mouth, tugging.

You kept your feet steady despite the worry, unsure if the deep concern you felt would cause him to flee; a deer bolting at the first crunch of underbrush.

“Jushiro,” you said. Your voice tensed his shoulders, caused his head to jump as though roused from thought.

Your arms de-tangled from the wool and draped it over his shoulders before you sank beside him. “Your lieutenants are sulking like puppies, you know.”

“Hm. They should be used to it by now,” he said in a melancholy tone that you struggled to hear. Jushiro never spoke about the silly tag team who constantly trailed him like that.

‘Patience be damned,’ you thought. Groaning loud and forceful you smacked your cold hands against your equally frost licked cheeks. “I can’t do it!”

Jushiro finally turned to you, eyebrows raised.

“I can’t stand seeing you so down on yourself,” you carried on, the steam of your outrage warming you, causing your breath to puff in white clouds. “And I’m not leaving until you talk to me!”

He winced, a bitter twist raising his lips at the sight of your hand grabbing for his. “I couldn’t get through the proposal.”

“It was just bad timing.”

His gaze retreated, moving to track flashing scales of sluggish, well-fed koi instead.

“Yes, exactly,” Jushiro croaked. “What if it’s always bad timing? Will you be so understanding when it’s our wedding day that I’m coughing up blood at?”

Your hand tightened around his, rubbing at his pale, thin fingers. “Of course,” you said, trying to contain your frustration. “Jushiro, I love you. I love all of you. Not just when you’re healthy or when life is easy.”

His dark brown eyes met yours for a breathless moment before his hand squeezed back and he laced your fingers together. “You deserve someone like that, -chan. Someone healthy. Who makes life easy.”

You couldn’t have shaken your head with anymore force, wishing you could smash your forehead against his and force every ounce of your feelings through his thick skull. Jushiro’s determination to upend your point tightened your throat.

“No,” you said, voice quivering in frustration. “I deserve the man who proposed to me because he loves me so much he wants to spend his life with me!! I--”

His arms were tugging at your back before you could speak further. Your deep, shuddering breath sucked the cotton fabric against his chest to your lips as you began to cry in earnest.

There was nothing to do but say it once more--”I love you, Jushiro. I do.”

“Oh,” he said, so mournful in his regret. “My dear.”

“Am I?,” you sobbed. “Then why can’t I be your wife, too?”

His hair tickled at your ears as it cascaded over you, his chin sharp against your scalp. “You are--oh, you are.”

He called your name, then again, and again, each utterance more bare than the last. “It’s just like me to forget how far pride forces you from others, isn’t it.”

Jushiro’s lips pressed to the top of your head, the chill of his own tears pooling between the kiss. The proof of his hurt did nothing to satisfy you. But your crying slowed, your arms hugging him, hands meeting behind his shaking back.

“Yes, but you understand now, don’t you? You’re not a sickness I need shielded from.”

Arms almost crushing, he held you tightly, for long minutes that were marked only by soft crying and whistling wind. “Thank you,” he managed after his body had grown steady.

Your tears wet his kimono in a warm pool of relief as he rubbed firm circles against your back. Your hands clutch at his sides, pressing to feel the warm of his body.

“Forgive me, please. I’m just so used to...”--Jushiro grappled for words and you waited for him to wrestle the correct ones down--”keeping it hidden. Only being sick behind closed doors, away from everyone, and coming back when it’s through. There doesn’t seem to be any room for that kind of separation in marriage.”

“No,” you agreed. “I wouldn’t want there to be.”

Tentative, almost too low for you to hear anything but the vibration of his chest, he said, “I don’t want it to be that way either.”

“So, if you understand” you sniffle, muffled by fabric and skin and salty tears, failing at light-hearted. “Are we still getting married?”

Jushiro pushed at your shoulders until you felt the wind drying your tears in a cruel chill. His thin hands cupped your face, thumbs swiping at the damp tracks trailing your cheeks. You did the same for him. “-chan,” he sighed, tender and reassuring. “Would you marry a silly man like me? Through all my sickness and little bits of health?”

Puffs of visible warmth formed between your faces as you chuckled in pathetic, wet hiccups. “Yes. For the second time, yes.”

Jushiro relaxed fully in one large breath as he leaned forward to kiss you, both of you unbothered by the mingling tears wetting your faces or the briny taste of them shared between your tongues.

His hands cradled your back and pressed you fully against him as he deepened the kiss, his head canting to the side. The blanket fell from his shoulders. Tumbling from your reach as you locked your arms around his neck.

Your lips detached from Jushiro’s as a thump sounded from the porch, Shunsui’s voice registering seconds after.

“Well, what did I say, you two?”

Quick enough to bring spots to your eyes, you turned to see Sentaro’s body lying prone against the wood, his fingers shielding a blushed face. Both he and Kiyone looked mortified, yet unable to look away as Shunsui glided toward you.

“C-captain we-we just,” Kiyone said, her teeth chattering in anxiety as she squashed her face with clutching hands, fingers wide enough to allow her eyes an unobstructed view.

“We came to celebrate the newlyweds,” Shunsui interrupted, smoothly raising a large, elegantly decorated bottle of unopened sake. “But don’t let us interrupt you just yet. Sake’s always sweeter with a view, after all. And something tells me it was just getting good.”

Jushiro inhaled deeply as he hugged you close again, but his brown eyes were light, twinkling with humor. “I should thank you to keep that particular gaze away from my future wife.”

Freeing your head with a twist, you eyed Shunsui with a dramatized sniff, your own arms tight around Jushiro’s body. “Sorry, but that was the end of whatever show you were hoping for!”

Shunsui flopped boneless to the porch. With a wink, he began pouring booze into large drinking saucers and you couldn’t help but grin. “Maaa. Just my luck.”

“We’ll be going now, captain!” Kiyone bowed dramatically, tugging at Sentaro’s uniform with enough force to tug it loose from his obi, as she backed away. “We’re so happy for you!”

“Congratulations, captain! I’m the happiest I’ve ever BEEN for you!”

“Everyone’s going to be so excited!!”

“Kiyone! How dare you?! I would NEVER spread this information without our captain’s permission!”

“Wha--no! Captain, I meant when they find out! I would hate even MORE to spread your private information around.”

Your laughter warmed everything inside you. Jushiro’s arms holding you helping just as much.

Thanking them, you and he dismissed them with fond smiles that they took with them, their bickering explosive with relief.

As Jushiro pressed his lips to your cheek and led you to the porch, you were glad for both his and Shunsui’s hand helping you to kneel. Your soul felt so light, without them, you’d surely float away.

[writefasttalkevenfaster]

Aaron Hotchner / Is That An Order?

Summary: you see Aaron in his FBI vest after he comes back from a call -- and it gives you both some ideas. 

Prompts: The Vest Hotch Fic™ 

Word count: 4,035

Warnings: Explicit (minors DNI), oral (m receiving), fingering, thigh riding,  dom! hotch (but he’s still soft), door sex, voyeurism, reader has a V (no pronouns), light choking, slighttttt watch kink, just smut, 

“Hey you,” Penelope sticks her head into Aaron’s office, a smile on her lips,  “looking for Hotch?” 

You nod, checking your watch — taunting you as it flashed a time nearly to midnight—  as Garcia sits beside you, “We were supposed to grab dinner — a late dinner about two hours ago — I assume something came up?” 

“They went out on a call a while ago — they should be back soon,” you furrow your brow, pressing your fist to your lips, “don’t worry, I already heard from them — they are going to be on their way back.” 

You roll your eyes, “You’ve been spending too much time with profilers, Pen,” 

“What’s new?” you laugh, just as there’s a knock at the door, Aaron standing in the doorway, his vest still on, gun in its holster. 

“Sir,” Penelope gets to her feet, the two speaking about the case, but you were much too distracted to hear what they said. 

Your eyes raked over him. Much too distracted. 

The blue vest slipped tight over his white button-up, his muscles straining against the woven fibres, his arms folded across his chest — the same you wanted splayed across your body as he fucked you, just as he did the night before. 

It should be illegal to look that good in what was essentially a government mandated (life saving) uniform. 

Penelope waves a hand in front of your face and you snap back to reality, and she tilts her head, “I’ll see you later, okay?” 

Your face burns — unable to meet Aaron’s gaze that caressed you slowly, , “Yeah, are we still on for Saturday?” Penelope nods, bidding you both goodbye, slipping from the office, the door clicking behind her. 

Aaron slips next to you on the couch, “Sorry I’m late,” he presses a kiss to your forehead, pressing his head against yours, as your palm cupped his cheek, relaxing under your touch, “Did we miss—” You show him your watch, and he sighs, brow wrinkling, “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s fine, I’m not upset,” you pressed a kiss to his lips, “we can always reschedule for tomorrow night with Jack. We can always do takeout tonight.” 

“I know — but this was supposed to be our night alone,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss right behind your ear, his words reverberating against your skin, “I wanted it to be special.” 

“It still can be,” you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling back to look at him, his gaze soft, “Would it be incredibly corny to say any night with you special?” 

He laughs, your chest squeezing, swelling with gentle pride that you were the one to make him make that beautiful noise, “Very,”

And he kisses you, his hand curling around the back of your neck to pull you closer, and your hand presses against his chest, feeling the muscle under the coarse fabric of the vest. And you lean into him, palms flat against the vest, “Did you keep this on for any reason?” 

You’re far too obvious and he’s far too astute — just as you intended. And he leans back, his breath warm against your lips, “Didn’t get a chance to change — my bag is in here,” you bite your lip, eyes roving the expanse of his chest wrapped in the material, tracing the letters written in white, and his fingers tilt your chin back up, molten eyes that make you squirm, “do you like what you see, sweetheart?” 

You lean closer, noses brushing, palms now curving around his shoulders, against the straps of the vest, “And what if I said I did?” 

~~~

“Strip,” Aaron orders, and you blink, as the light turns green, the car begins to roll forward again on this empty road ahead of you. The streets were mostly deserted now, the hour much too late for traffic and the streets barely illuminated by dimming street lamps — you could thank the great city of D.C. for that.

You tilt your head, “What?” 

His fingers flex over the steering wheel, his watch gleaming in the hint of light the moon shone onto the console, “I gave you an order,” 

Well this was new. 

His eyes snap over to yours, softening for a split second as if to ask for silent permission to continue, “I said strip.” 

And you bite back your smile, he’s still just as soft as always. 

You do as he says, stripping down — your shirt slipping over your head easily, your pants were next, pausing to look around — the road was empty and barren, no — nothing but the road stretching out. But right now the thick heat of the summer wasn’t the thing that was making you shift your seat, no it’s how he watches you out of the corner of his eye, his gaze utterly dark, dark you can only assume with thoughts of what he would do to you if he wasn’t driving. 

Now you’re in your underwear, squirming under his steady gaze, as he rolls to a stop at a redlight. And he looks at you now, as you part your thighs for him, appreciating how his eyes linger where your underwear has a dark patch, and he clears his throat. 

“Touch yourself,” his voice is thick as molasses, rich and dark, sending a shiver down your spine. 

You raise an eyebrow, “Is that an order, sir?” 

“It wasn’t a question, sweetheart,” and you oblige, pulling down your underwear around your ankles, spreading yourself with your fingers to begin, tips of your fingers circling your entrance, your eyes fluttering, until a flash of green catches your attention. 

“It’s green,” you gasp, choosing that moment to sink a finger into yourself, knuckle deep, and you see his grip on the wheel flex again, as if he’s barely holding himself back, “the light, sir.” 

His eyes flicker back to the road, and he hits the accelerator, continuing on the road, eyes flickering over to you, unable to completely tear himself away. You had sunk another finger into yourself, slowly thrusting, eyes fluttering shut as you imagined it was his fingers, your hips already rolling against your touch, imagining it was his fingers instead, his knee between your legs spreading you wider — muttering filthy nothings in your ear—- 

“Sir, please—” 

“What do you want?” 

Your gaze flickers to him, leaning against the headrest,  “Something— say something—” 

Another red light, and your eyes flutter open, his features cast in a red glow, his jaw set, “Not yet,” and you whine, long and high, his brow arching at the pathetic noise that left your lips, his eyes remain on the road, but you see him stealing glances out of the corner of his eye, “have you earned it?” 

You grit your teeth, your fingers still pressing insistently, your thumb brushing your clit, and your walls flutter with the promise of an orgasm — a moan rips from your throat. And then you see him — he shifts, oh so subtly adjusting himself, but you know you have him. 

You would earn it  — you bite your smile back, waiting patiently for the light to turn green — and he would have to just watch. 

Green. 

That’s when you start fucking yourself in earnest, a third finger slipping into your wet cunt, and you knew he could hear just how wet you were for him, your sounds filling the silence of the car. Your fingers dripped the armrests of the carseat, nails digging into plush material, as you braced your legs for even a little more leverage, a little more to get off too. 

And even though he refused to run his mouth, you did— 

“Fuck, your fingers would be thicker than mine, so good rubbing against my clit right now—” you give a needy sigh, as your thumb swipes against your clit again, circling around right where you wanted it. You felt the car pick up speed, rushing, pushing to get back faster, and you knew he was close, even as the car rolled to another stop at a red light. 

He growls your name, swallowing thickly, and you catch a glimpse of his fingers digging into the leather of the armrest. 

“You fuck me better than I can fuck myself. God, I’m dripping for you, can you hear it? I need you, Aaron,” and your eyes flutter open, your mouth hanging open, meeting his half lidded eyes as he watches you — a heat so molten that it begins to prod you over the edge, your thumb pressing against your clit in tight circles, “Fuck. Aaron— Sir, I’m close.” 

“Stop,” he orders, cutting through your euphoria, and your fingers slow, “you don’t cum until I tell you can.” 

“I don’t care,” you whine, your fingers beginning to move, but he grabs your wrist, tightly, being careful when he pulls your fingers from you. Your fingers are shiny, wet with the beginnings of your orgasm. His eyes narrow as he looks at them, his tongue darting across his lips, and you can almost those lips wrapped your fingers, sucking your cum from the tips of your fingers as his tongue circled— 

He offers your fingers to you, “Suck,” he tells you, his attention split between you and the red light, and you ached at the emptiness, squirming, “I gave you an order—” 

Green light. 

You place your fingers in your mouth, your taste dancing across your tongue as he watches you, and you make a show of it — swirling your tongue around your fingers, sloppily sucking at them, imagining it was his cock instead. Your pussy throbbed, and you were sure you were going to leave a wet spot on the seat. You pulled your fingers out with a pop, just as he hit another red light. 

In a moment, his fingers wrapped around the back of your neck, pulling you into a bruising kiss that stole the air from your chest. His teeth graze your bottom lip harshly, before his tongue slips into your mouth, tasting you on your tongue. Your fingers fist in his shirt, tugging him closer over the console, his name leaving your mouth in a whimper. 

And he snaps. He pulls away from you, a protest stuck in the back of your throat, until he pulls into his driveway, “Sir—” 

He pushes his seat back, undoing his seatbelt, and he leans over, gripping the back of your neck again, “I’m going to fuck you in this seat, sweetheart,” he kisses you again, brusingly rough, as his fingers tangle in your hair, pulling you up. Your back arched, hunched and pressed against the ceiling of the car as he slipped his tongue into your mouth, his fingers busy pulling your pants and underwear down in one fell swoop. He tugs you over, as you help him pull you over the shift gear, launching yourself with the heel of your foot. You land right against his hard cock, a grunt falling from his lips, as your pussy throbs against the coarse material of his jeans. 

Your palms run across the vest, as his lips fall from your lips, punctuating the kiss to the hollow of your throat with sucking at the juncture of your neck and shoulder. He takes his time with you:he’s pragmatic with his kisses, his touches, each one carefully calculated — your collarbone, your neck, your pulse; he’s patient, his lips smile against your skin when he feels you squirm; but he’s passionate, his hands splayed across your hips, his chest bumping yours, his eyes bored into you as if he couldn’t bear to look away. 

But still, he wasn’t keeping his promise — his fingers traced up and down your thighs, but he made no move to unbuckle his belt or undo his fly, “Sir, please—” 

“This isn’t a reward,” his voice taut, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips, knowing it wasn’t enough pressure to bloom bruises, “not after what you just pulled.” 

“I did what I did—” 

His hand flies over your mouth, muffling your words against your palm, “I didn’t ask for an explanation,” and he roughly shifts you so you were straddling his thigh now, the thick muscle under your throbbing folds, “And I don’t think you deserve to get fucked, do you?” He rolls the thigh underneath you, delicious friction sending a ripple of pleasure up your spine, “not until you learn your lesson.” 

“Please—” you let out a needy whine, as you grind down, moaning as your folds drag against him, and his fingers wind their way around your neck, the cold metal of his watch against the hollow of your throat. A shiver ghosts down your body, and you don’t know if it’s from the cold press of the watch or the anticipation that mulls in your stomach — a heat that makes you melt into him, into his touch. The calluses of his fingers drag against your smooth skin, until they settle into place — as they always did. 

“I want you to fuck yourself on my thigh for me, sweetheart,” his fingers squeeze your throat softly to punctuate his words, his other hand gliding along the length of your thigh until settling on your hip again, his thumb sliding up and down the soft flesh, “You have to earn it.” 

“Earn what?” and he forces you to roll against his thigh again, forcing a whimper from your lips. 

“Earn the right to be fucked,” he presses a kiss to the corner of your lips. 

You glare at him, before his thigh falls slack and you throb again, wanting friction, wanting pleasure, wanting him. 

Fuck it, your hands splay over his shoulders, against the thick material of the vest, and fuck him. 

You grind down on his thigh, your clit catching deliciously against his the thick muscle of his thigh, “Look at you,” his fingers flex around your neck with every press of his thigh, “imagine if the team could see you like this, split open on my thigh, soaking it — I can feel how wet you are — I can hear it,” Your pussy twitches against him, and his lips curl, “you like that, don’t you? Only I can fuck you like this. I can only see you like this, can’t I?” and you nod, as he begins to roll his thigh against your in tandem, your head lolling back — so fucking good, “show me how good you are, show me how good you’re going to be for me.” 

And he knows you’re close — your fingernails digging into his shoulders, mouth ajar, his fingers around your neck holding you in place for him — a pretty picture of pleasure before him, for him to watch you fall apart under his touch. You were his art, and he was surely the artist. 

You rock your hips against him again, as his thigh tenses in time, and then his finger reach underneath, rubbing against you harshly, “Cum for me,” 

And you do, his name on your lips again, your walls fluttering as you spill all over him, still grinding against him as you ride out your orgasm. His lips find yours as you slow, embarrassingly wet, his jeans soaked with evidence of your orgasm, but that only serves to make you clench against him more. He presses butterfly kisses against your lips as you come down, your pants in his ear. 

“Sir, Aaron— please—” He runs his thumb down your lips, pulling at your bottom one, as he looks at you with half lidded eyes, and he moves your hand to his bulge, hardened against the material of his jeans, damp — just as his pant leg you rested on was — but from his arousal, not yours. His eyes darken when he sees your tongue drag against your lips, “Can I—” 

Your answer is when he pushes the seat back as far as it can go, and you slip from his lap, kneeling comfortably between his legs, pushed flush with the seat. His fingers undo his belt, the clink of his belt making you press your thighs together. He lifts his hips, as you help him pull his jeans and boxers down, a flurry of fabric tugged down to his ankles, until you’re staring at his cock. 

Precum leaks out the tip, a low hiss leaves his lips as your fingers curl around him, your tongue darting out to lick it. His fingers tighten against the armrests, as you kiss the tip again, your fingers grazing him lightly, “Fuck, sweetheart, I thought you wanted me to fuck you—” his sentence dies in his throat as you press the flat of your tongue down the underside of his hardness, relishing in the way he twitches underneath your touch, “fuck, I—” 

His fingers card through your hair, tugging you closer, pressing his length into your mouth, “You do that so well, don’t you?” he murmurs, his hips beginning to jerk against you, “going to fuck your throat, mark that mouth as my own. Because you’re mine,” He groans, when your tongue traces his slit again, before curling around his length. 

You grin against him, lips sucking and licking, a thick heat radiating between your bodies that made you nearly sigh. He was the stoic bureau chief who hardly had a kind word for anyone who disappointed him — and yet, here he was, your name curled around your name like that, in a rough, desperate tone that made another stripe of warmth flush through your body. His fingers dug sharply into your scalp, thrusting until his tip hit the back of your throat. 

He hears you gag, and he freezes. The facade breaks a moment, as he blinks down at you, his eyes flickering down to check on you, “Sorry—” but you tap twice to let him know you’re okay, your eyes half lidded and glassy, “are you—” his words left as you hollowed out your cheeks to suck at him, and you wished you could hear his debauched groan again and again. 

And your tongue traces his slit again, before sucking again — and he’s thrusting again, slowly this time, “You’re so good for me,” he murmurs, the persona fading as he got closer to his orgasm, “so good, sweetheart,”

But then he pulls you off, gently, and you’re panting, peering up at him, his cock twitching at the sight, “Aaron—” 

He helps you into his lap with a grunt, “I want to fuck you, sweetheart, just how you want, just tell me what you want,” 

His words are nearly enough to make you come apart, with his cock brushing against your clit, “I want you to fuck me in your vest, I want to feel myself come apart on you,” you shift, and your head bumps against the ceiling, you flinch, “but maybe not in here,” 

His hand finds the top of your head rubbing it, “Maybe you’re right,” 

The two of you slip from the car — disheveled but dressed — his hand in yours as he pulls you towards the door, and his keys are in his hands. You’re pressed against him, pressing kisses to his shoulder, and right as your hand drifts to the bulge in his pants, the door opens. And now, you’re pressed against it. 

His lips fall to yours, crushing you against the door, one hand undoing the button on your pants, and the other trying to pull your shirt over your head. You oblige him, lifting your arms over your head, getting the pesky fabric out of way, before he undoes your bra with practiced ease. The fabric of his vest drags down your body as he towers over you. He finds your lips again, his tongue tracing over your lips before slipping into your mouth — and you know he’s tasting himself on your lips. 

And your hand palms his bulge through his pants, just as his lips trail down to your neck, “Fuck, sweetheart,” he murmurs, as you revel in the weight of his cock in your fingers, and his teeth scrape against your neck, smoothing it with his tongue. 

And you can’t stand it anymore, you pull him back, fingers knotted in his hair at the base of his neck, “I need you,” and his eyes are lidded and dark, raising an eyebrow, “sir.” 

And we’re back. 

“Let me see how much,” His fingers find your underwear, completely soaked through and he pulls the crotch aside, a calloused finger rubs at your clit, making you jump, “All of this for me?” 

“Aar—” you yelp, as another finger joins the first, spreading your folds, toying and pinching your clit. 

“You’re soaked,” he hums, and your pussy convulses around his fingers, until he pulls his hand away, undoing his pants, and freeing himself from his slacks. And you’re acutely aware of just how dressed he was compared to you — you were down to your underwear, and his clothes dragged over your bare skin. 

And now he’s lifting your leg, hooking around his hip, before sucking his fingers, shiny with your cum, into his mouth, and your hands fall on his shoulders, digging into the coarse material,  “I need you to—” 

And he fills you, sinking into you with ease. You arch into his touch, as he groans, a guttural noise that fills your ears, as he begins to thrust, the door creaking under your weight, pressed chest to chest, your peaks rubbing against his vest,  “Look at how well you’re taking me, sweetheart,” he moans, leaning his head down to lave at your nipples, “You’ve wanted this from the moment you saw me today, didn’t you?  Wanted me to fuck you in my vest — do you like it when I take control?” 

His fingers dig into your hips, “Aaron, I’m—” you’re nearly boneless at this point, utterly consumed by him, unable to tell where the other begins or ends, pleasure rolling off in waves, teetering on the edge, “I’m close—” 

“Don’t come until I say,” he slows his thrusts to a languid pace, and you swear, fingers digging into his shoulders, and his fingers are at your clit. A sob rips from your throat, on the edge of pleasure. 

“Sir—” your orgasm begins to crest, shaking your head, “I need—” 

“And he begins to thrust in earnest, his fingers rubbing your clit harshly, “Cum for me, baby,” and you’re coming apart with his name on your lips, as he murmurs sweet nothings in your ear, your walls fluttering around his cock, as you tug him closer, chest to chest again, fingernails digging into his vest. And his hips snap once more before he finally spills inside you with a groan of your name. 

You find him in your haze, pulling him to your lips, and this kiss is softer and sweet — deeper, as he rests himself against the door, slowing to a stop. Cupping your cheek, his thumb brushes the length of it, before pulling away, his forehead pressed to yours, slowly letting your leg down. Your knees wobble and he doesn’t miss it. 

He rears back for a moment, his hands trying to steady you, “Are you—” 

“I’m fine,” you sigh, tugging him close again, the absence of him too much to bear in this post-orgasmic bliss — you needed him closer even. But he slips from inside you, even as you pout, ���I just need you, remember?” 

“I remember,” he hums, pressing a lazy kiss to your neck, lips curled in a smile, “I also remember something about us missing dinner after I kept you waiting,” 

You raise an eyebrow, “Hungry already, Hotchner?” 

He shrugs, trailing slow kisses up your neck, “I worked up an appetite,” he nearly lifts you off your feet, pulling you into his arms, “order takeout and then a shower? Together,” he adds, pressing a kiss to your temple. 

You smirk, tilting your head, “Is that an order, sir?” 

And he raises an eyebrow, pulling you closer, as your hands slip around his shoulders, feeling the material of the vest under your fingers, “Well, it wasn’t a question.” 

[seriouslysnape]

Miscommunication (pt.2)

James Potter x Remus Lupin x Sirius Black x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Language. Poly! relationship. 

A/N: Part 1 is here!

Word Count: 3,376

“But that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you.”

It had been three weeks since you had stormed out of the boys’ dorm in a scurry of anger. It had also been three weeks since you had touched, talked to, or even spared Sirius a passing glance. As far as you were concerned, he didn’t even exist. Despite your dramatic exit, Sirius was confident that you’d crack soon enough and come running back to him, begging for forgiveness. But the more time that passed, the more that he was beginning to realize that might not be the case.

In a general sense, life continued on as it always had. You walked through the Hogwarts’ corridors with the three Gryffindors, laughing at James’ jokes and blushing red under Remus’ kisses. You gave all your love and time to James and Remus, not offering Sirius a drop of your attention. 

He tried to ignore it. He tried to brush it off like it didn’t bother him and like it didn’t make a difference whether you were with him or not. His attempts to drown you out the way you had been drowning him out were successful at first, but it only took about a week for him to realize how much this was killing him.

In the mornings, you woke James or Remus up (depending on whose bed you slept in the night before) with bubbly kisses and sweet giggles, something that you had always done for all three of the boys’ wake up calls. Sirius had gone almost 23 days (but not like he was COUNTING or anything) since he had any kind of interaction with you.

No cuddles.

No hugs.

No kisses.

Nothing.

The whole situation put James and Remus into a bit of an awkward position. You were on great terms with the two of them, considering they hadn’t insulted you and invalidated your feelings right in your face. This was a difficult challenge to tackle, because they felt guilty for continuing to love up on you when Sirius wasn’t getting his usual share. This was a rather particular arrangement that had taken lots of trial and error to make the right adjustments. Now that the balance had been thrown off, the whole thing didn’t feel right.

James and Remus had both tried to convince you to talk things out with Sirius. They knew that deep down this wasn’t what you wanted, and things couldn’t go on like this forever. James and Remus knew Sirius better than anybody. They were fully aware that Sirius was regretting what he had done and was kicking himself for it...even if Sirius wouldn’t show it or admit to it. 

Sirius was beginning to lose precious sleep over this. He tossed and turned in his bed that had grown so lonely without you. His arms felt so empty not being wrapped around you, holding you snugly to his body. Suddenly, he didn’t have anyone to help him with his Potions homework or someone to remind him about his Transfiguration exam coming up. He didn’t have the girl that completed the complex puzzle that was Sirius Black. He felt so unfinished without you.

He missed you.

But his pride was winning out.

“How’s the brat today?” Sirius questioned dryly, not even looking up from his Herbology textbook in his lap.

“Sirius.” Remus and James echoed, clearly displeased at Sirius’ cold name for you.

Over the last three weeks, Sirius would ask about you when you weren’t around and he was alone with the boys. He would ask how you were doing, but what he really wanted to know was if you had said anything about him or given any indications that you were close to giving in. James and Remus were growing impatient with Sirius. They had tried to step back, allowing both yourself and Sirius to have time to allow your fog of frustration to air out. They had hoped that Sirius would come around to realize that he had been wrong in all kinds of ways, and you both could work it out on your own.

Between stepping all over your feelings like they were a sidewalk and calling you a bitch for being rightfully upset, Sirius had one too many strikeouts on his record.

“What? If she’s going to act like a child, then I’ll treat her like one.” Sirius growled.

James crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back in the chair that he was sitting in by the common room’s fireplace. Remus watched the two of them from over the rim of his cup that contained his favorite hot tea. 

“She’s hurt, Sirius. You hurt her,” James snarled, eyebrows furrowed in agitation, “I don’t blame her for not wanting to talk to you.”

“Did you not hear the things she said to me? She was totally out of line.” Sirius argued, his demeanor going rigid and his defensive mode kicking into high gear.

“Because you pushed her too hard,” Remus cut in, “She has every right to be upset.”

Sirius was shocked that they were taking your side over his. You were never allowed to speak to any of them the way you had talked to Sirius that day. You weren’t allowed to talk back, get an attitude, touch yourself without permission, as well as other rules that had been established early on in the relationship. They all took the rules very seriously, and the fact that James and Remus were brushing it off was mind boggling to Sirius.

“I didn’t push her at all. She caught an attitude with me.” Sirius remarked tossing his textbook aside.

“Because you don’t always treat her the way you should,” Remus snapped, “All she wanted was for you to listen and talk to her.” 

“Do I not already do enough for her? I walk her to class, I let her sleep with me, not to mention that I fuck her pretty much whenever she wants,” Sirius pointed out, “And now I’m still not doing enough?”

James shook his head, sighing harshly. He was disappointed that he still wasn’t getting it. 

“She’s our girl, Padfoot. She responds so well to Moony and me because she knows how much we love her,” James explained, “You’ve got to start treating her like you love her.”

Sirius’ hardened features went light at what James was saying. He looked between his two best friends, who were sharing matching expressions of urgency. Sirius felt a sickening feeling creeping into his stomach that he could feel all the way up into his throat. Had you gone this whole time thinking that he didn’t love you like the other two did?

“But...I do love her.” Sirius spoke, almost in a whisper.

James and Remus looked at one another briefly, a bit relieved that he was maybe starting to see clearly now.

“She doesn’t know that. You’re going to lose her for good if you don’t change some things, Pads.” Remus added once he saw that Sirius was beginning to have a serious breakthrough moment.

That surely got Sirius’ attention. That wasn’t something he wanted at all. It made his heart hurt even to think about possibly never being with you again. He had to fix this, no matter what he had to do or say.

He just hoped that it wasn’t too late.

The remorse and the contrition that he was feeling that had been building up in him over the last three weeks was finally seeping through the cracks of the surface. It was like a fire that just kept spreading and spreading until the only thing he could see were the hot, orange flames and black smoke that would suffocate him if he breathed in too hard. It was like a switch had flipped. He couldn’t stand it anymore. He didn’t care about his pride or his image or his dignity. 

He just wanted you back.

So, the boys began to devise a plan. Sirius admitted that he didn’t know how to even begin apologizing to you. He wasn’t great with apologies, considering that even the word ‘sorry’ probably had only fallen from his mouth only a couple of times in his life. This was going to take some calculation and planning to get it right. 

You had been doing a bang up job of ensuring that you weren’t ever alone with Sirius. You made sure that either James or Remus was by your side whenever you were in Sirius’ presence, to avoid being forced to speak to him. Remus and James were confident that they could get you two in a room alone together. That was the easy part. The hard part would fall to Sirius, which came down to the actual apology.

James and Remus knew you’d be suspicious if Sirius apologized first. You’d likely only think he was apologizing because he was touch starved and wanted sex, not because he cared about you and was terrified of losing you. In their eyes though, as long as he was honest and didn’t lose his cool, you’d be able to see his real intentions.

Remus had told you to meet him in their dorm, and that no one would be there until later in the day. That seemed pretty normal to you, so you didn’t even give it a second thought. The dorm was empty when you arrived, prompting you to slip out of your uniform and into one of Remus’ sweaters all while getting comfortable on his bed. Shortly after you were settled, the three boys congregated just outside the door, whispering in their semi-circle formation.

“You got this, mate. Just be normal and be honest,” James instructed, “I guarantee you that she’s missing you just as much.”

Sirius was nervous. Not because he didn’t know what to say or what to do, but because he had half convinced himself that you had already decided he wasn’t worth your time anymore. He couldn’t live with himself if he was the reason you had left him.

“We’ll be out here just in case you need us,” Remus piped up, “It’s gonna be fine, Pads.”

James and Remus gave Sirius reassuring grins as Sirius took a deep breath before turning the knob of the door. He entered the small dorm room, his heart fluttering when he saw you sitting on Remus’ mattress. Your head snapped up, your face full of delightful expectation for Remus, but it faded just as fast as it came when you saw it was Sirius. He definitely noticed, but tried not to take it to heart. Your eyes were locked in with his, and you could already tell something was up.

“Hey.” Sirius said plainly, and in a bit of a squeak.

“Hi.” You replied.

He was honestly surprised that you actually gave him an answer. He thought you might’ve ignored him completely. The joyous relief that he felt from you actually talking to him was almost enough to send him to his knees, pleading for you to give him another chance. 

His gaze did shift to the book that was placed next to you. It was your Herbology textbook, the same one that Sirius had been studying from earlier that day.

“Studying for Herbology?” Sirius asked, but obviously that wasn’t what he wanted to talk about.

“Yeah,” You answered, unsure of what exactly was happening, “I was just waiting for Remus.”

Sirius nodded, avoiding the sting that burned in his chest at the reminder that he hadn’t truly seen you in almost a month. You looked so comfortable in the large sweater and the blanket that was draped over your lap. Your hair was slightly messy from the breeze outside that you had walked through to get here. Your skin was glowing from the warmth of their room and the sudden interaction you were having with Sirius.

You looked perfect to him.

He knew he needed to say something now. He needed to kick start this conversation before things got awkward and weird. Although, he never minded silence as long as he had you to occupy his every thought. All the things that he had planned to say were abruptly wiped from his mind. He was going out on a limb here, totally about to wing this. He just had to go for it.

“Can I sit?” He questioned, referring to the slight open space next to you.

You nodded hesitantly, shifting over so he could have a little more room. He sat down just about a foot in front of you, both of you turning to face each other. James and Remus were just outside the door, their ears pressed up against the door to be sure they didn’t miss anything.

Sirius looked at you for a few moments, taking in your curious, attentive behavior. He took a breath, and spoke again, but it came out as more of a ramble.

“Baby, I know I’ve hurt your feelings. I didn’t want or mean to hurt your feelings, but sometimes I just say stupid shit and then I’m too proud to admit that I said something stupid and...” He trailed off when he realized that so far he wasn’t saying anything that you didn’t already know. 

This was yet another reminder that Sirius wasn’t a great talker. But he wanted to let you know the things that you didn’t already know. He wanted you to know that he was truly sorry. He was sorry for ever making you feel like you weren’t worth anything to him. 

He wanted you to know that you were his world.

“I miss you,” He began again, preparing for any possible reaction from you,  “I’m sorry for everything I said. I’m sorry that I hurt you...I never, ever wanted to do that.”

Your silence wasn’t because you weren’t believing what he was saying or because you didn’t want to listen. You were silent because you were floored that this was happening. Never in a million years did you think that you’d be sitting here listening to a real, heartfelt apology from Sirius Black. The thought of you leaving him had really scared him, and you could see it.

“I know I’m different from Moony and Prongs. They’re a bit better at this than I am,” He admitted, “But that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you.”

Truth be told, you weren’t really mad at Sirius anymore. You could never stay angry at him. Your whole avoid-Sirius-at-all-costs routine hadn’t exactly been a walk in the park for you either. There were several times where you were tempted to just let it go and forget about it. But now you were glad that you hadn’t done that, because you would’ve lost this opportunity to understand one another a little better.

“All I had wanted that day was to talk to you. I like talking to you,” You explained, “I just get frustrated when you don’t want to listen and the only thing you can think about is fucking me.”

Sirius sighed, his eyes diverting to his hands that were fiddling with the edge of the blanket in your lap. He had known that the other two boys were right, but hearing it come from you made him feel even more guilty.

“I know. I guess I’m just not good at talking. It’s not that I didn’t want to, it’s just...not what I’m good at. I’m sorry that I made you feel like you weren’t important,” Sirius confessed, “But I do love you. And I don’t want to go another day without you.”

Another silence filled the room, one that had Sirius’ heart pounding in his chest. He felt like his entire life was on the line. Like, his entire fate was resting on whatever you were going to say or do next. You had every right to get up and walk out and never speak to him again. He knew he had crossed so many lines so many times that it was a wonder you were still here. He just hoped that you’d give him another chance. He hoped that he deserved another chance.

You were starstruck. You were completely touched and moved by what he had said. Maybe it wasn’t the most flawless apology ever. Maybe it was a little rough around the edges with a couple of hiccups. But deep down it was true, honest, and pure. 

Just like the Sirius Black that you had come to love.

He didn’t have anything else to say, and he hoped that what he had said was enough. Your warm hand came to his face, his head lulling into your palm when you brought his worried eyes to look at you once more. 

“I love you. I promise you don’t have to go without me anymore.” You smiled, accepting his apology and offering your forgiveness.

All color returned to Sirius’ face, his shoulders relaxing and his chest releasing a bated breath. You captured his lips into a needy kiss, one that was nothing short of long awaited. Sirius’ hands came to the side of your neck, his blood pumping in his ears. He had missed this. 

He had missed you.

He was even more thrilled when you crawled over into his lap, his hands guiding your legs around him as he refused to let you go from his lips. Although, when the other two boys came bursting in, your hot make out session was forced to a halt. They came in as if they had no idea what was going on, fake surprised expressions plastered on their faces.

“Well, hello there.” James chided with a smirk.

“Did we miss something?” Remus asked.

You and Sirius only laughed, as the four of you crammed together on Remus’ bed. Sirius continued to pepper kisses wherever he could while you craned your head to look at James as he spoke.

“So, I guess the two of you got things worked out?” James acquired. 

“We sure did.” You smiled, giggling when Sirius’ kisses brushed against a particularly sensitive spot on your neck.

Your lips found his again, Sirius leaning you back onto the mattress and keeping secured there. When your breathing began to get heavy and your noises became a little hungrier, James and Remus announced their exit.

“Well, I suppose Prongs and I will leave you to it.” Remus winked.

Sirius broke the kiss only to respond, but that didn’t stop you from leaning upwards to suck on his pulse point, not even phased by what Remus had said.

“You two aren’t going to stick around?” Sirius wondered, groaning as your hips rolled into his quickly hardening dick through his pants.

James shrugged.

“We’ll let it slide this time,” He said triumphantly, ushering Remus out the door, “Besides, the two of you have some catching up to do.”

Sirius let out a guttural laugh as he took a moment to look down at you. You looked so beautiful sprawled out underneath him; your lips swollen from the kissing and your eyes blown with lustful expectation. He knew he’d never be able to take you for granted again.

“My pretty girl...” He mewled, “I love you. A million times over I’ll tell you that I love you.”

“I love you, Siri,” You hummed, swiping a loose piece of hair from his forehead, “Now make me cum the way I know you know how to.”

Sirius chuckled lowly at your boldness, his pupils dilating at the flush of arousal that sent through him. You knew better than to tell him how to run his show, but he knew this was a special occasion, so he didn’t mind taking an order or two. 

“Well, now, what happened to ‘sex doesn’t fix everything’?” Sirius joked.

“It doesn’t, but we already fixed what needed to be fixed by talking,” You smiled, “Now we just both get something we want.”

Sirius laughed out loud, continuing his shower of kisses and swiping your skirt off in one swift move, your body squirming with anticipation. He felt confident that things would be better now. He was more than thankful that he had another shot at this. He was happy he had you back, and the four of you could go back to normal.

And now things would be even better than before.

***

Tags: @justadreamyhufflepuff​ @satellitespidey​ @blackpinkdolan​ @gubleryum​ @gxtitobxby​ @risingtripletaurus​​

[n0bamak1s]

laughing gas - mai zenin x reader

request: “Mai Zenin x Fem S/o, where the s/o gets their wisdom tooth removed and confesses their love to mai acting all sweet and cute, mai then takes care of her s/o and confesses too, we can see mai being her bratty and confident self but when she is with her s/o she just lets her walls down” - @shockfirefly

summary: in the request! (genre: fluff, friends to lovers, slice of life, humor)

warnings: reader is high on anesthesia if that counts as a warning, swearing, mostly just tooth rotting fluff (literally!!)

word count: 2k

a/n: i really enjoyed writing this request! at this point i’m basically just a mai zenin stan account tbh but the requests for her are just so fun to write. i’m almost on summer break so hopefully i’ll be more active bc i have a few ideas i’m excited to write for!!

it seriously took everything in mai’s willpower to not immediately whip out her phone to film your groggy state the moment she stepped into the room where you had just gotten your surgery done. she stifled a laugh at the bandage wrapped around your head, vaguely reminiscent of the one noritoshi had worn following the exchange event. when your eyes flicker over to meet her gaze, you give what she can only assume is your attempt at a smile, but looks more like a dog caught eating its owner’s dinner, with your face all swollen and slightly flushed.

forget that willpower shit.

she shamelessly calls out your name, to which you respond like an eager little kid. “say cheese!” she gives you an uncharacteristically wide grin to signal you to mirror her actions. you seemed to not learn from your previous mistake and attempted to smile back at her, before immediately cutting yourself off with a muffled groan. she hardly bothered with hiding her giggle this time, but at the very least she had the decency to cover her mouth as she cracked up.

with an annoyed pout on your face, you huffed and turned to the nurse standing beside you, who you were apparently to loopy to notice had joined in with mai on giggling at your grogginess. “she’s so mean to me!” you said, though your tone had no real irritation to it.

“it’s just to send to utahime. she wants to make sure your doing alright.” mai lied straight through her teeth, though you seem satisfied enough with that answer as you started to push yourself up from the seat you’d been in. mai quickly rushed to your side, knowing you weren’t sensible enough at the moment to ask for her help. before you could stand up and inevitably wobble over, she looped an arm around your waist and moved your arm so it was slung over her shoulders.

“alright champ, let’s get going.” she tried to remain as nonchalant as possible with the close proximity, but unfortunately for her, you seemed determined to embarrass her as much as possible.

“well at least buy me dinner first, ya casanova!” you said (much louder than necessary, mind you). honestly, it wouldn’t be surprising to mai if you could be heard from the waiting room.

with an over enthusiastic wave from you and an awkward thanks from mai to the nurse, you guys set off on your way.

to be fair to you, it was surprisingly a relatively tame trip to the door, with you focusing on keeping your steps in tune with mai’s. you were too lost in thought to embarrass yourself until you had made it to the waiting room. you had rather innocently pointed out a small curse, which would have been completely harmless had it not actually been an old woman, and had you not spoken with an inappropriately loud voice. the poor old lady who had fallen subject to your anesthesia induced self gave you an agitated glare as mai waved sheepishly in apology. the moment you guys were out the door, you turned back to glance through the glass.

“we’ll get her later, mai!” you patted her on the back with determination, your voice still muffled in a way that made you sound like you belonged on sesame street. “she can’t fool me, stupid curse!”

had it been anyone else, mai would have simply rolled her eyes and tugged you on, but since it was you, she found herself laughing along, a quiet laugh, like the sound of a wind chime in early spring weather. the sound seemed to catch you off guard, causing you to stop in your antics before turning to face her. she paused when she felt your gaze back on her, looking at her like a kid would look at fireworks for the first time.

she raised an eyebrow at your sudden change in demeanor. “what?”

“your laugh is pretty.” you stated simply, clearly having some pride at being the one to get her to laugh like that.

she turned away for a moment, hoping it would stop you from seeing the flush spreading across her face, knowing you’d never let her live it down. “thanks.” she muttered, praying she sounded at least a little bit cool and composed.

the short walk to the car was filled with you pointing out random cars asking if they were mai’s as you rested your head on her shoulder, before deciding the swelling was too painful for that.

a large grin which quickly turned into a grimace (you really never learned) appeared on your face when mai finally informed you that you’d made it to the right car. she held your hand to support you as you stepped into the seat, and once she’d sat down, reached over to buckle you in. she chose to ignore the over exaggerated wink you sent her way in favor of her own sanity.

as she drove, you babbled on about nonsense like how you were sure noritoshi had made mechamaru to hide the fact that he was secretly a robot, or how after that run you had gotten at the baseball game, you were sure you were destined to quit sorcery to go to the major leagues. to humor you, mai nodded along, before dryly responding that she’d probably be a better fit considering how good she looked in the baseball uniforms.

ignorant of her joking tone, you were quick to agree enthusiastically. “definitely! but i dunno if i’m the best person to ask, because i think you look good in just about anything.” your voice was sincere as you turned fully to look at her with slightly hazy eyes.

before either of you had time to process the admiration you had shown towards her, you glanced back out the window to the familiar sight of your school. you excitedly waved at the sight of todo and noritoshi sparring together. after catching his attention, todo didn’t even bother to stop the roaring laughter that came from your appearance, pointing out to noritoshi the similarities between your current look and his from just a few weeks ago. noritoshi gave todo an annoyed look, before glancing back over to see mai helping you out of the car, once again slinging your arm over her shoulders and supporting you with an arm on your waist.

she tried her best to ignore todo, she really did. though, it wasn’t exactly easy to ignore him when he loudly exclaimed what a ‘lady killer’ mai was. she snapped her gaze to meet his eyes, giving him a cold glare, before continuing to slink you along to your dorm.

when you opened the door to your dorm, the first thing mai noticed was a bulletin board on your wall, decorated with photos of all your friends, which most recently included your classmates. her eyes flicked to a photo of you next to another girl in elementary school with a smile that showed off your gap from missing teeth, and she chuckled softly at the irony of the photo compared to your current situation. her gaze then quickly shifted to a newly added strip of pictures from a photo booth. she smiled fondly at the memory of you, her, miwa, and momo sandwiching yourselves together in the tiny booth to take photos during your shopping trip. they weren’t ‘good’ photos, per say, in fact you guys all looked rather ridiculous trying to pack into frame, but for some reason, mai seemed to soften up at the memory of it, and how happy you looked just to be next to her.

her train of thought was interrupted by you tugging on the hand that didn’t rest on you, making her turn to see you mere inches from her face.

why the hell were you so close???

“yes?” she questioned, hoping to deflect from the fact that she was so obviously gushing over the photos on your wall just moments before.

“will you sleep with me?”

had you not had an arm around her, she probably would have dropped you in that instant. from the way she carried herself to the way she talked to others, most people would assume mai zenin does NOT blush, yet somehow you’d managed to disprove that theory way too many times today.

“WHAT?” it was her turn to be loud for a moment.

“i’m tireddddd” you whined “and you’re so warm.” you had stated it so casually, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

she groaned, as if it would cover up her sheer embarrassment at how bold you were. wordlessly, she walked you to your bed, keeping her grip on your waist secure. it was amazing how gentle she was as she laid you down on that rock solid bed all the dorms were stuck with. she pulled a blanket over you, sitting awkwardly on the edge of the bed in hopes you’d doze off peacefully from there. when she didn’t shift from her position, you looked at her with a confused expression.

“wouldn’t it be more comfortable to lay down?” your words were still slightly slurred together. you rested a hand on hers. “you know i don’t mind.” despite your dazed look, she could tell your words were sincere as your thumb rubbed circles atop her hand.

mai turned to face you full on, her eyes gentle rather than their usual harsh look.

curse you for being so hard to resist.

“fine” her voice was quiet “but only because it’s my job to watch over you.” she stretched out her legs so she was laying down on the bed, pulling the blanket towards her so she could get comfortable.

“you’re so good to me mai.” you smiled. not a pained grimace, or an awkward baring of your teeth, but a smile. “people always seem to be so intimidated by you, but i don’t really get it. you’ve always been so nice to me. it’s nice.”

she didn’t understand how even when you were all loopy, you still managed to have such an effect on her. hesitantly, she reached up to grab your hand, intertwining her fingers with yours.

it seemed the boldness from your anesthesia had rubbed off on her.

before she had time to talk, you continued. “i always feel so glad when we get paired up for missions, you make me feel so safe. like, i know when i’m around you that you’ll protect me. i admire you so much for doing all that for me.”

she went slightly stiff at your...confession? declaration? what exactly would you call that? you had said it so nonchalantly, whether it was out of trying to play off your fear of rejection or legitimate confidence, it was hard to tell.

“plus you’re really pretty.” your hand squeezed hers as you looked suddenly very interested in the pattern of your blanket. it was odd, seeing you get so shy all of a sudden, though she supposed it was somewhat of a win for her.

as you stared sheepishly away from her eyes that traced over every inch of your face, you felt her hand come up to your cheek, tilting you to face her. she continued scanning your face with an impossibly soft expression, before meeting your eyes once again.

“you know i wouldn’t do all that if it was anyone else.” her voice was barely above a whisper as her eyes bore into yours. her face was so close to yours that you could feel her breath fanning lightly across your face. “it’s all for you.” you’d never seen her so earnest before.

you smiled softly at her, even despite the ridiculous bandages around your head, and your chipmunk like cheeks, she still stared at you with so much love.

“you like meeee.” your tone was teasing, but it was obvious to anyone with a pair of eyes that you were just as whipped as her.

“dammit. you figured me out.” she said sarcastically, shuffling forward slightly so you were flush against her.

up close, the tiredness in your glassy eyes was obvious. she sighed to herself, and slowly leaned in to plant a soft kiss on your forehead.

“get some sleep.” she smiled at your eyes struggling to fight open your heavy eyelids. “we have a lot to talk about once the anesthesia wears off.”

maybe todo wasn’t so far off with that ‘lady killer’ comment.

[is-very-sad]

A normal day.

Warnings: general very light eldritch stuff, safe

Word count: 525

Some random things, nothing more than idle boredom

   A quiet breakfast in the HOL. The brothers ignore how the lights dim as the "human" enters quietly. Too quietly. It was months before they didn't openly flinch when the thing simply appears next to them. They still get startled often, they've just gotten variously better at not showing how badly they get caught off guard. They try to leave before you finish eating, not exactly wanting to walk with you. They certainly don't need to protect you…    The demons at RAD part like the sea to Moses as you walk through the halls. Your smile increases slightly as the mid levels inch away. The weakest scatter like a startled flock of birds at the sight.  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~    Asmo consciously holds himself back as he converses with the exchange student. Flirtatious remarks are nearly instinctual, but he's still not willing to risk what might become of a night of fun with them. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~    Beelzebub happily enjoys lunch with his..friend. He tries to ignore how many teeth the so-called human shows between bites of meat. He tries even harder to ignore the movement in the back of their throat.  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~    Lucifer watches them as the household collectively walks home behind them. His pride can't stand not understanding..whatever this thing is. He can't stand how an instinct demands he be careful, as if he wouldn't stand a chance if they seriously wanted him erased. They turn to him and smile pleasantly. As much so as they can, anyway. … Were their eyes always that color? ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~    Mammon shivers in the corner of the room as it eerily smiles at him from the doorway. "It's impolite to steal, Mammon." He full on shakes at the way his name leaves it's mouth. Sounds unnatural in a way he can't describe.     "I know about the demons who're fascinated enough to buy my stolen items, Mammon" He pales. "Ah- y'see it's just-"     "I don't care." He looks confused now, but mostly still worried. "Give me the box, and Lucifer can replace the uniforms." He slowly hands over the tall box from behind his back. With it in hand, it sits on the bed expectantly. He makes a run for it as the door is left unguarded.     They don't mind, they've researched this world's magic and know nothing short of the Father itself could ever do more than inconvenience them. They turn back to the box as the door shuts itself.    Words are hissed in a language so old it never lived. The box allows itself to open. Slowly, with a fascinating gentleness, a singular item is removed. Eyes older than newborn stars stare intensely.   Hours seem to be spent sitting in the now pitch black room. Emotions that aren't understood. Endless circles of questions.     Eventually, time resumes.     Maybe one day they'll understand all this, as they've cracked so many other mysteries of existence before.     But they know it's in vain. For all their might, even they can't control time itself eternally.. They only grow older, further away from understanding something they were never capable of in the first place.    A faded but otherwise pristine pink teddy bear is placed back where it'll be safe. 

[daloy-politsey]

On my first date with Yehoram, I offered him a sip of my prosecco at the hip Tel Aviv bar I had brought him to. He tensed, paused and quietly replied, “I’m not sure if I can. I don’t know if it’s kosher.” I immediately recognized his confession for what it was: a coming-out. I told him that it’s fine, that we can ask the waitress if the wine has a certification, that I grew up in an observant family too. He finally breathed.

I already knew that Yehoram is female-to-male transgender. In fact, it was the only thing written on his dating profile. Over the course of our year-long relationship, and then our seamless transition into friendship late last year, he explained to me that the queer community will often accept that he is trans but not that he is religious. But the same is not always necessarily true of the religious community – and particularly of his family.

There are many preconceptions about his family. The matriarch Mazal, 74, and patriarch Yehiel, 78, were both born in Sana’a, Yemen, and immigrated to the newly-declared State of Israel in early childhood. (Haaretz is honoring their request not to publish the family name.) They are visibly Haredi: Mazal wears long skirts and tucks her hair into modest black caps; Yehiel trims his salt-and-pepper beard, and wears a uniform of crisp dress shirts, black pants and a black velvet kippa.

They speak with heavy Yemenite accents – which have been at least partially adopted by their seven children – and their speech is seasoned with religious aphorisms and allusions. People are surprised to learn that Yehoram, 32, is accepted and supported by his parents, to a degree that is rare even in the secular homes of Tel Aviv.

At their kitchen table in a town near Rehovot, central Israel, Mazal has set out water, juice and a homemade cake. Yehiel has set down a voice recorder of his own, to make sure he isn’t misrepresented. They have a story to tell about being the parents of a trans son, and they have decided that I am allowed to tell it.

Before we begin the interview, both are apprehensive. After much deliberation, they decide that I can publish their names but not their images. Yehiel is a respected figure in religious circles: he serves as his synagogue’s main cantor on the High Holy Days, is a mezuzah scribe and kashrut supervisor for the Chief Rabbinate. He spends his free time poring over religious texts, with Yehoram often alongside him. His son no longer attends the local synagogue in which his father plays so large a role; the congregation knew him before his transition, and it could hurt his family’s reputation.

If someone goes to the rabbi with this article in hand and tells Yehiel that he’s out of the fold, “at our age, there’s no fight left. There’s nothing you can do,” he says. “It would destroy me.” When he thinks I cannot hear him, he says that he suspects that one of his contracts as a kashrut supervisor was not renewed for this exact reason – because of his unconventional family.

But if getting his story out shows religious parents that they can embrace their own LGBTQ children, he wants it published. “I want to help,” he says.

Mazal chimes in. “Both of us do. You hear these stories about parents throwing their children out ... I don’t understand it. I don’t understand how you throw out your child.”

She recounts going to the shivah of a friend of Yehoram’s – the transgender queer activist DanVeg, who took her own life in 2016.  “I saw them all in the living room, with their heads on each other’s shoulders. I started to cry. I wanted to hug them all, to go one by one. And they came to me; they saw the look in my eye. There was a man who had become a woman, who came to hug me. And a young girl, and more. I couldn’t take it,” she says, wiping away tears that are coming faster and faster. “More and more of them told us that they’re alone, abandoned by their parents. How can you throw out your child? The child of a human being!”

I get up to hug her, and she cries into my back: “Why? Why would you throw your child out of your house? Why?”

They say they never suspected that Yehoram was different before he came out to them, if not unconventionally, as queer at the age of 18, some 14 years ago.

He did not employ the usual lexicon: “I told them, this is how I am – I’m wearing pants from now on and I’m not interested in men,” he recounts. In Yehoram’s absence, Yehiel recalls it as well. Yehoram sat his parents down in the living room and said his piece, and then asked his parents for a response.

“We got up immediately, as if it were coordinated,” Yehiel says. “We hugged [him] from both directions … and we told [him], ‘You have nothing to be afraid of, no need to worry. You’re our daughter, it doesn’t matter what you do.’” Yehoram then opened his backpack to show a couple days’ clothes inside. “If you didn’t accept me, I would have killed myself,” he told his parents.

From there, they worked to make sure that their son wouldn’t, for one moment, forget that he is loved and cared for. They also made sure that he could live a normal life. “It was important that he be self-sufficient, have a respectable career, be able to build a life without us,” Yehiel explains. “Every day, I’m afraid that he won’t be here. I think about how he can build his life so he’s not dependent on anyone else.”

Mazal and Yehiel tend to refer to Yehoram with female pronouns when he isn’t in the room, and occasionally slip into them when he is. To her, Mazal says, he will always be their daughter. “It’s hard for me,” Yehiel concurs. “[He] should be patient.”

Mazal calls him by his chosen name – an anagram of his birth name – to make him happy. “And to connect with [him] – what can you do? We love [him] either way. [He’s] our daughter.”

There have been difficulties in accepting him along the way, she concedes. But like many parents of LGBTQ children, they are mainly rooted in concerns that he will be able to live a safe, fulfilling life.

No one should mistake their acceptance for liberalism – they repeatedly note that the Pride Parades, with their scanty clothes and glitter, are unsightly. “The left brings it in,” Mazal says. “Non-Jews from abroad, with all their tattoos and whatnot.” However, their embrace of their transgender son and the many queer people who have passed through their doors does not come in spite of their firm religious beliefs, but is the direct result of them.

Yehiel, a lifelong religious scholar, has poured over sources biblical, talmudic, rabbinic and kabbalistic. The kabbalistic concept of the soul provides a simple explanation for the transgender phenomenon, he believes.

“We have the knowledge that Jewish souls can be reincarnated into anything – into non-Jewish families, into animals, even into food,” Yehiel explains. “We were taught that the soul of a man can be reincarnated into a woman, in order to remedy something he had done in a past life.”

When Mazal was pregnant with Yehoram, she had already given birth to five daughters and was hoping for a son. The couple went to a respected rabbi, who told them to buy a bottle of wine for the circumcision ceremony and to come see him 40 days into the pregnancy. Yehiel says that when the time came, it was hard to get hold of the rabbi to schedule an appointment, and they were only able to see him eight months in. The rabbi gave them the blessing regardless.

“The body was already formed female,” Yehiel says, but the prayers had worked: “The soul was male.”

And there is scripture to back up the existence of LGBTQ people within Judaism. “You’re not different, you’re not strange,” Yehiel says. “This [phenomenon] has always existed. It’s in the Torah, and it’s in the mystical sources.” Mazal adds: “It’s a shame that we don’t lay this out these days, to have everything written up and organized to say that it’s all there in scripture.”

At 26, Yehoram told his parents he was transitioning. He underwent top surgery – a double mastectomy – without informing them. “On the one hand, it hurt us,” Yehiel admits. “For us, it meant that’s it – it’s sealed. If he’d told us in advance, we would have told him to wait. Maybe the situation would change.”

But what’s done is done, Mazal says. “What hurt me is that [he] underwent the surgery and I wasn’t there. That ate at me.”

Both loudly agree that the important thing is that he is happy and healthy. “We hope just for success – and thank God there are many successes, so everything is alright,” she says. “I’m just waiting for children,” she laughs.

Yehoram, who has taken a seat next to her, smirks. Mazal jokes about him coming home pregnant one day. He’s slightly irked, but jokes along. A couple of years ago, he froze his eggs through Ichilov Hospital’s fertility clinic for transgender men, and hopes to one day become a father, no matter how he has to do it. His parents strongly supported the move. They have 31 grandchildren and two great-grandchildren.

Yehoram asks a question of his own: Whether his parents want to talk about the time they took him to an esteemed rabbi in Tel Aviv, after he came out at 18.

“After he told us everything, we consulted with a rabbi,” Yehiel relays. “I remember that he got angry and yelled at him. I didn’t like that. He hurt him, and I couldn’t stay any longer, so we left.”

“The rabbi told me that I had lapsed, deteriorated in my spirituality,” Yehoram explains. It’s clear that he remembers it vividly. “That I had fallen.”

After that, the rabbi told him to leave the room, and for his parents to stay. “I heard shouting, and then you left the room,” he says to his parents. “You didn’t say anything, I didn’t say anything. We were quiet all the way home.”

No one discussed the incident for days after, and they barely spoke at all. After three days, Yehoram says, he asked his mother what had happened after the rabbi told him to leave the room.

“I didn’t know what happened, I assumed the worst. You told me that [Dad] got very angry and told [the rabbi], ‘How dare you hurt and belittle a Jewish soul?’ You said you had to give him however much money, and that you just threw a small bill onto the table and left the room,” Yehoram tells his mother. “It really surprised me. I thought you were on his side, and then I suddenly heard that you were on mine.”

When he is with us in the room, Yehoram sometimes seems agitated by his parents’ insistence that their acceptance has always been complete. He tries to direct them toward other instances, other rabbis they don’t or won’t recall. It is often difficult for parents to acknowledge the pain or discomfort that their actions caused their children, even if they were accidental. Mazal brings out a picture from Yehoram’s bat mitzvah, of them embracing the young girl he was. They look almost exactly the same, 20 years later, beaming. Young Yehoram, in a long-sleeved, high-necked dress, is smiling, but the smile does not reach his eyes.

Elisha Alexander, co-CEO and founder of the transgender advocacy and information organization Ma’avarim, says that even though Yehiel and Mazal’s acceptance of their son may seem unique, he would like to think it’s more common than we assume.

“There are religious and even ultra-Orthodox people who accept their trans family members, but it’s usually in secret. The main problem in these communities is the leadership,” he says.

But if more of them realized that embracing their children was a matter of pikuach nefesh – the Jewish concept that saving a life supersedes most religious commandments and norms – they would be more inclined to find a halakhic solution to integrating transgender people into these communities.

There is also a misconception that acceptance is a binary choice: That any parent who does not kick their transgender child out of the house or disown them has, by default, accepted them. “This could not be further from the truth,” Alexander says. “Accepting your child means accepting every aspect inherent to them, including their gender identity, pronouns and so on.”

When parents refuse to do so, their child may seek acceptance elsewhere. He adds that studies show that acceptance within the family drastically reduces the suicide rate among transgender people.

Knowing this, Yehiel says that any parent in his position must continue loving and supporting their child. “This child can fall,” he says. He does not mention it, but he is aware of the stories and statistics: trans youth who find themselves on the street face high rates of abuse and exploitation. Thirty to 50 percent of transgender teens report suicidal thoughts and behaviors – a rate three times higher than for teens overall. But that figure falls to 4 percent when families accept and embrace them, says Sarit Ben Shimol, manager of the Lioness Alliance for families and transgender children and teenagers.

Yehiel adds that it is the duty of parents to give children the support they need to thrive. “As a parent, it is your responsibility to tell your child: You are my child and you are my life. My life depends on you. Watch over me so that I can watch over you,” he says.

As we get up from our seats, Yehiel looks at me for a moment and asks, “If it’s not too personal – since we already opened up the topic – what is your relationship like with your parents?”

I tell them that I talk to my parents, and especially my mother, almost every day. That it was difficult for them to come to terms with my sexual orientation as well, and that sometimes I have an inkling that it still is, even if they won’t say it outright. But I try to be patient.

“Good,” Mazal says. “It’s important to be patient – they’re learning too.” She embraces me again, and Yehiel rests a hand on my shoulder. They invite me to come again, whenever I like. “After all, you’re like our daughter, too.”